


Melt

by iruusu



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Background Relationships, Canon Divergence, Hints of OOC, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 81,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7957090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iruusu/pseuds/iruusu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's no secret that Judal has a crush on Sinbad, even after he is faced with rejection. But when he is cast out by Al-Thamen and escape is the only option, Judal finds himself growing closer to Sinbad than he ever thought possible, and he soon learns what it means for ice to melt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a long, multichapter Sinju story, because there aren't nearly enough. I apologize for this being on the shorter side, the first chapter is always the hardest. I aim to update every Sunday.
> 
> Please review! :)

"Hey, Stupid King!"

Sinbad stifled a groan, glancing over his shoulder with tired golden eyes. Although he was sure that the cheerful greeting had come from behind, the ends of a long, black braid dangling before his eyes told him better to look up.

Judal lay stretched out effortlessly upon a bed of thin air, exposing the taut lines of his stomach and resting his cheek in the palm of an elegant hand. For reasons unknown to the king, his eyes gleamed with an unfamiliar light and his grin was far less cheshire than childlike. "It's so good to see my favorite idiot again!"

"I can't say the same for you, Judal."

Over the past few weeks, Sinbad had been seeing far more of Judal than he would have liked, for no reason more than that the magi "wanted to say hello." Lately, Judal had been showing up everywhere, it seemed as though whenever Sinbad looked up, there he was, grinning, with some cheeky remark poised on the tip of his tongue. Sinbad was not fooled for a second. Judal did not just pop up for the sake of his own good will; there was always a motive behind his actions.

Judal pulled a frown. "Oh, come on!" He whined, unfurling from where he lay to alight with an enviably catlike grace. "Couldn't you at least pretend that you're glad to see me? I came all the way from Kou just to pay you a visit."

"Perhaps," Sinbad began, glaring down at the smaller figure before him, "I might be happier if I'd actually invited you here. Or did you take that liberty yourself?"

"Of course," Judal smiled, a cheeky grin that Sinbad found oddly innocent for the reputation he upheld. "You'd never let me come if it were up to you." He studied the look on Judal's features for but a moment before turning to walk away.

"You're so cruel to me, Sinbad," Judal called after him as he hurried to match with Sinbad's stride. "I don't always come here just for you, though!"

Sinbad scoffed. "Have some friends to pay a visit?"

"You know I don't have any of those," Judal answered as though it were nothing, and Sinbad felt an uncomfortable ache in his chest as the magi fell into step alongside him. "But that's not it. The Kou Palace can be such a drag, y'know? They put my body through some serious shit with those rituals all the time. I'd do anything to get away from them."

Sinbad came to a slow halt. Judal was an immeasurably powerful magician, Sinbad knew that all too well, but he'd also been told that the magi, as most were, was laughably weak and physically delicate, with almost no strength nor endurance. He was a bother, sure, but Judal was _beautiful_. His features were impish and delicate, and he had such long, dark hair; Sinbad had to wonder if he'd ever cut it. What intrigued him most, though, were those deep, intelligent scarlet eyes, how striking they were against his flawless pale skin, how deep sorrow would swell within them before he silenced it with a laugh. For a moment, Sinbad worried for him, and dared to wonder how much that body could take. As he studied the soft edges of Judal's frame, it almost hurt him to imagine.

"I could pose for a portrait, if you'd like," Judal piped up helpfully. "It'd certainly last longer."

Sinbad didn't want to know how long he'd been staring. He assumed that it had been long enough to inspire Judal's cheeky grin, the hand resting on his cocked hip, and those eyes glowing with mischief. The king sighed.

"I have little patience for your antics today, Judal," he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Do you ever?" Judal muttered, eyes cast down. "I always come all the way here just to see you, and you never even spare me a moment's time."

Judal's expression was always a very odd juxtaposition of agony and mirth, but now there was something especially troubled about his features. Though Sinbad would rather him wallow somewhere else, it intrigued him, that he could never quite tell whether Judal were ready to laugh or cry. That was something that didn't quite sit right with him.

"You can come another time, then. When I'm not this preoccupied," Sinbad conceded, and while he knew he would quickly regret the offer, watching the glow return to Judal's scarlet eyes made it somehow worth the trouble.

"Really?"

Sinbad sighed. "Would you rather be escorted out?"

"Your silly guards could never catch me," he scoffed, tossing his long braid back over his shoulder. "But don't think you're getting rid of me that easily! I'll be back, whether you like it or not, Sinbad!" Judal proclaimed with a proud wink. In seconds he had seated himself cross-legged atop an intricately embroidered magic carpet, and flew off with a grin and a wave, vanishing into a speck in the distance.

Sinbad could not imagine why Judal would possibly make things so easy for him. Everything Sinbad had learned up to this day pointed to the fact that Judal only operated to benefit his own interests, that he was selfish, and that he never followed anyone's orders if his life depended on it. Something was very wrong if Judal was being compliant, Sinbad decided, something that he couldn't seem to put his finger on, and yet it was amiss nonetheless. Sinbad spared a moment to stare after that invisible speck in the sky, shook his head, and got back to work.

* * *

Judal didn't know why he always went to Sindria, or, more specifically, to Sinbad.

Whether he liked it or not, he always found himself loitering around the palace for no real reason other than that he wanted to be there. Something about being near Sinbad pleased him, even if they weren't in each other's company. Maybe it had something to do with the beauty of that country, the tropical breeze and the lively people who always seemed to be perfectly content. Or perhaps the naïve, childish part of him that had longed to conquer the world with Sinbad had never really left.

The magic carpet ride to Kou had been long, uneventful, and stupidly boring. In some vain effort to keep himself sane throughout the journey, he turned his attention to the songs of the rukh. As of late, Judal had begun to worry that there were more of the white birds than he could remember, and that the black ones were slowly, almost unnoticeably dwindling. Judal, of course, noticed. The song of the black rukh wasn't nearly as light and tinny as that of their white counterparts; their song was deeper and soothing, and he liked it that way. But he supposed that the cheerful melody of the white rukh could be nice, too.

Lately, though, their song had been too loud and too distracting and--god, why were they turning pink?

"Judal!" A shrill voice drew him out of his thoughts, and there was Kougyoku, waving big at him from across the courtyard. Judal waved back and smirked as she came to meet him.

Judal had always liked Kougyoku, compared to the rest of the empire at least. She wasn't keen on judging him, for one thing, and her antics were pretty entertaining for the most part. But he wasn't too fond of her interest in the Sindrian King, for whatever reason.

"Old hag," he greeted accordingly, to which she pouted and swelled up with frustration. However, it seemed as though bigger things were on her mind, for she quickly changed the subject.

"How was Sindria?" Kougyoku asked, a whisper, because as far as she knew Judal really wasn't supposed to be making these careless trips to their enemy state. It had grown to become the primary subject of her constant worry. "Did Sinbad say anything about me?"

"Not a thing," he chuckled, and took a bite from the ripe peach in his hand.

"Good!" She answered haughtily, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Eh? I thought you liked that Stupid King," Judal grumbled, feeling unusually defensive. He knew there was no reason to let Kougyoku threaten him with just her presence alone, it was foolish to tarnish a friendship (should he call it that?) over a stupid man. Sinbad had no interest in taking on an actual partner anyways, although, that thought only managed to discourage Judal even more.

Kougyoku shook her head, arms crossed. "No way! I may have liked him once," she admitted, turning pink, "but those days are gone. After the way he's treated me, I want nothing to do with that pig."

Judal shrugged. That meant less competition for him, at least. "So, I guess you don't mind me paying him visits all the time?"

"Well, I don't..." She began, averting darkly lashed roseate eyes and wringing her hands together with discomfort. "But the priests do. They've been getting antsy, with you leaving all the time."

Judal concealed the sinking feeling in his abdomen with a laugh, and clapped a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't you worry about them, old hag. They couldn't so much as lay a finger on me and get away with it!"

Kougyoku eyed him suspiciously, and Judal could tell that she didn't believe him, but she nodded hesitantly and sighed. "Just please be careful, Judal."

She was called away by Ka Koubun, and bid Judal goodbye before he could argue. Judal did have a place in his heart for Kougyoku, and he probably always would, but it was not the sort that could be expected. For a while now, Judal had come to understand that he had no eyes for women. On occasion a nosy servant might tease him as to his affections regarding the princess, but there was really nothing like that between them. Growing up in the Kou palace could be awfully lonely; back then, Judal needed a friend more than he did a lover.

Now, though, he was desperate for attention, and not particularly from a woman.

Judal spent the rest of the evening avoiding the priests of Al-Thamen, being of no mind to intercept their apparent rage. Despite taking a long, candlelit rose-scented bath, Judal felt anything but relaxed. As he lay awake in bed that night, sleep was the last thing on his mind. With the maddening buzz of the rukh and, worse yet, the time alone with his thoughts, Judal had not felt this stressed in weeks.

Only after meeting with Sinbad did he always feel this way; Judal didn't know why he always went to Sindria only to be rejected and feel like this afterwards. Even when he was younger he'd always had eyes for Sinbad, but Judal... wasn't the best at putting his feelings into words. He couldn't even describe his feelings to himself, much less the object of such affections. The closest he'd ever gotten was the offer to make Sinbad his King, but apparently he wasn't being transparent enough, because those conversations always led to an altercation of some sort. Which may or may not have been his own fault, but that was besides the point.

Judal sighed and raked a hand through his loosened hair. He couldn't exactly describe the way he felt to be awful; rather it was more that a deep, hollow emptiness inside him was longing to be filled like it had never been before. Judal thought he was past the point in his life of yearning for something more, for something good, and yet there was a part of him that still cried out for the acceptance he'd never gotten to receive.

"Shut up!" Judal groaned, kicking and flailing under the sheets when the noisy, fluttering rukh refused to allow him a moment’s peace. Though, their chirping hardly made a difference, when his mind was already so occupied with thought. With a groan, Judal buried his head underneath the pillow and tried, in vain, to fall into sleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the title haha sorry for any confusion?? This is a little late LMAO I had a really rough week n I'm still trying to get into the schedule of weekly updates,, this is still a little short n i dont even kno where it went tbh but sometimes you gotta let life guide you
> 
> please review!

"You're wearing perfume."

It was less of a question than a statement. By that point, Kougyoku had grown accustomed to the scent that most often accompanied Judal: fruity, like his most favorite peaches, and yet somehow very cold all the same, as though he were from an orchard frosted in shards of winter ice. But now, lazily lounging around Kougyoku's bedroom on a muggy, rainy evening, there was something very flowery swirling in the air. The faint, subtle essence of jasmine perfume clung to his skin and hair, and with it was the subtle fragrance of a warm sea breeze.

Judal shot her a look, plainly agitated and nervous, as though he'd given something fundamental away. "What?" he snapped. "Why-is it obvious?"

"A little," Kougyoku tried to hide a giggle. Contrary to his general reputation, one shrouded in an air of mystery and secrecy, Judal was almost laughably bad at being subtle-not that Kougyoku was very much better herself. "But it's nice. You're going to see Sinbad again, aren't you?"

Judal sputtered, and tried not to choke. "What gave you that idea?"

"You don't normally dress up."

His lips, perhaps a bit pinker than usual, were tugged into a frown. "I'm not 'dressed up.'"

It was not often that Judal went out of his way to adorn himself, as his typical state of attire was already flamboyant and alluring enough without any additional ornamentation. But now there was the subtle hint that he was trying to make an impression, evident from the single pearl droplet dangling from his right ear, the sharper, darkened lines of his kohl, and, of course, the soft fragrance of perfume.

"My mistake, then," she conceded, and Judal had to contain a soft growl. "You always look pretty, anyways."

"Of course I do," he said with a flush.

"I don't understand why you always go to Sinbad, though," Kougyoku began slowly, watching as Judal yawned and reclined in a nest of pillows upon her bed. At just the thought of Sinbad alone, her delicate nose wrinkled in distaste. It was true to say that Kougyoku had once harbored deep feelings for the King of Sindria, but now she was certain that whatever she had felt then was nothing more than superficial infatuation. Those feelings weren't real, and even if they were, that hardly mattered now. After the way Sinbad had manipulated her, made a fool of her, and forced her to betray her own kingdom and people, Kougyoku would rather die than be anywhere near him. "He is handsome, but not worth the trouble."

Judal rolled his flashing scarlet eyes. "Oh come on. You act as though he's the plague. He isn't that awful."

Kougyoku made a face.

"What? He's really not that bad!"

"That's what I thought at first..." Kougyoku began, kneeling on her bed beside him. "But... now I don't know. He's broken my heart more than once," she murmured, and felt the stinging at the corners of her eyes as she wrung her delicate hands together. "I don't want you to have to go through that too."

Judal was silent for a moment. "It won't come to that," he said softly, sitting up against the pillows. "I just can't help but feel different when I go to him. Sindria is so different from Kou, and I guess Sinbad is different too. When I'm with him, I don't have to be the dog of Al-Thamen. I can be myself." A startlingly raw and earnest note crept into his whisper, desperate and heartfelt, as he cast a glance to her. "I mean, he's a little cruel, sometimes. But I don't think he really means to be. I don't think he hates me, and that's different. That's enough."

"Judal..."

"Don't worry about me too much, I can take care of myself," Judal assured, waving off her concern with a lazy hand. "I've done it for this long, haven't I?"

Kougyoku risked a gentle smile. "I know," she said, and rested a frail hand upon his shoulder. "But you know that I'm here if you ever need a friend."

The magi suddenly turned very pink, and roughly shrugged her hand off of him. "Whatever," Judal grumbled, and stubbornly tore his gaze away. "I'm not friends with an old hag like you."

The comment would usually inspire outrage in Kougyoku, but at this her smile only grew. For the harsh exterior he attempted to convey, Judal was rather cute. Perhaps during her younger years, Kougyoku may have had some sort of crush on him, whether she could admit that to herself or not. That, however, was before she had acquired the sense to understand that Judal hadn't the slightest romantic interest in women, who he claimed to have thought were "boring." She knew that there was more to it than that, regardless of whether Judal could accept it himself. The best thing she could do, Kougyoku decided, was to support him in his other endeavors, even if they did happen to involve Sinbad.

"You should tell him how you feel."

"What?" Judal turned back to face her, eyes widening. "I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't," she chirped in agreement, all too cheerful for the context. "But, you do. And I trust your judgment. Sindria and Kou have reached some sort of temporary peace, so Sinbad has no qualms with you. If he means that much to you, then you should really tell him."

Judal was silent for a moment, threading the ends of his braid through his fingers as his brow creased in deep thought. "Maybe I will," he said finally, barely a whisper.

Kougyoku beamed. "Just make sure to be careful around him," she said, grinning. "And not just with him, but with the organization too. They're getting tired of you leaving so often. I don't want them to-"

"I can do whatever I want," Judal scoffed, and threw himself back into the pillows with a discontented huff. "I told you not to worry about them."

Her features twisted into a pout. "Alright," she grumbled, eyeing something golden upon his slender fingers when he did not bother to reply. "Judal?"

"What?"

"Is that nail polish?"

_"No!"_

* * *

Lately, Sinbad found that the Kou Empire's magi was always on his mind.

It hadn't always been like this. There was a time when Sinbad held only bitter loathing towards Judal; even if he had been a child through Sindria's first fall, he was to blame, he had overseen it, and Sinbad had never hated anyone more. But somehow that hatred had dulled over the years, as scars began to fade with the passage of time, and now the closest thing to hatred he held for the magi was pity. Judal had been so young, so oblivious, a pawn in a game he could never hope to win. Sinbad could no longer find anger for Judal within himself, only mild irritation at times, and perhaps the faint, occasional twinge of concern.

Sometimes, if the work day was particularly long and he was particularly unmotivated, Sinbad would think upon just what sort of excruciating pain Judal had endured in his nineteen years. Judal had made a fatal misstep once, that time a few months ago, when he lamented his past before Sinbad; the magi was hardly a good actor. It was that raw hurt and disbelief and _agony_ crackling his voice that had touched Sinbad in a place he didn't know he still had. That boy was hurting too much for Sinbad to just sit back and say nothing, as he had done for so many years before. Somehow, he seemed more deserving of compassion now than he had been then, because now Judal had grown to understand. The look in those gleaming, crimson eyes was too intelligent and too aware to be ignored forever, and it was beginning to grow far deeper than Sinbad had ever imagined it could.

As of recent events, Judal's eyes always seemed to be screaming whenever he came to Sinbad. There was something that he couldn't say, whether that was due to pride or obligation, and yet it was too obvious how he was silently begging to be heard. Sinbad felt something tighten in his chest whenever Judal looked at him with those eyes-those desperate, bloody eyes, and simply replaying the memory of him made Sinbad feel as though he were going to melt.

It certainly didn't hurt that Judal was very beautiful, either. Sinbad had known Judal since he was young, from a distance at least, and that baby-faced little boy was worlds apart from Judal as he appeared now. He had something of an androgynous grace; his innate prowess and sculpted abdomen paired with that long hair and those delicate features to make for an astonishingly pretty picture. Though, with that figure, beautiful as it was, sometimes Sinbad couldn't help but worry if he were actually eating. Did they ever think to feed him, in Kou?

Sinbad didn't like to think that he was fantasizing, but as time went on that was often what it felt like. Mountains of paperwork could become so awfully boring, and Judal was anything but. Just thinking of what that body could do, that sly smile and slender waist and those tantalizing hips was nearly too much to bear. Sinbad was almost paralyzed imagining what was concealed beneath his waistline: legs that would surely be slender and elegant, smooth and graceful and untouched. He had never seen the curvature of Judal's legs, always draped in the heavy black fabric of his leg dress. He wondered if Judal might show him sometime.

Sinbad forced the idea from his mind and heaved a deep sigh, massaging his temples in hopes to will the thought away. What Sinbad really needed was a distraction-from work, from Judal, and from everything else.

A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts, and Sinbad glanced up from the desk to find Ja'far entering the chamber with a scowl. Sinbad brightened.

"Ja'far!" he began, already moving to stand. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"Don't act so surprised, this is my job after all," Ja'far grumbled, rolling his eyes. When his gaze passed over Sinbad and the blank sheet of paper before him, he couldn't contain a groan. "Have you even started on your paperwork? For god's sake, Sin, its almost nightfall already!"

Sinbad waved a hand. "Oh, forget the paperwork! We have more important things to do."

Ja'far raised a pale eyebrow. "Like what?"

Sinbad came out from behind his desk and approached, clapping a hand on Ja'far's shoulder. "I think this place is in dire need of a celebration, don't you think?

Jafar sighed. "What's the occasion?"

"Do we need one?" Sinbad countered, grinning. "That's never stopped us before. Have a summons sent out to the townspeople and have the grounds prepared for festivities. I'm tired of being cooped up in here all the time."

"This seems unnecessary," Ja'far began, glancing up at Sinbad with skepticism written all over his features, "and out of the blue. Are you sure that there's no occasion for this?"

The thought of telling Ja'far his true intentions immediately crossed Sinbad's mind. But that would make things overly complicated, and Ja'far would never agree if he knew, and Sinbad could not imagine that his advisor would be very pleased to discover what really occupied his thoughts and distracted him from his paperwork. It wasn't as though Sinbad was in love, or anything of the sort, but this sudden infatuation was something he did not think he could endure for very much longer without a break.

"Is there anything wrong with wanting to have a bit of fun?" Sinbad asked, eyes gleaming. "Not everything is that deep, you know."

Ja'far frowned, and pursed his lips as though he wanted to say something, but swallowed the remark with a sigh. "Well, alright," he conceded, and Sinbad met him with a grin. "But you'll have to finish all of your paperwork tomorrow."

"Of course, of course," he laughed, but a part of him knew that Ja'far didn't buy the sudden bright idea. Ja'far had known him for too long to blindly accept everything he said, the man was far too perceptive for his own good, and Sinbad would have a lot of explaining to do come morning. But that was fine. Tonight, Sinbad was desperate for something to distract him, for something to take his mind off of Judal, if but for a night. He was sure that he'd feel better after a drink.

* * *

 

Judal had never attended one of Sindria's infamous festivals, and he hadn't planned on doing so anytime in the near future. However, a long night of boredom, impulsive thought, and Kougyoku's encouragement led him here, to the buzzing streets of Sindria, and Judal couldn't decide whether he felt regret or excitement.

It wouldn't have mattered what he wore if it were just him and Sinbad, because there was never a need to hide around the man. Tonight, though, with the commotion in the streets and even the poorest of Sindrians in their best attire, Judal suddenly felt very out of place and very vulnerable in his everyday clothing. Not to mention that walking so freely throughout the streets was just asking for someone familiar to stumble upon him, and Judal wasn't about to be caught in such an act.

The best he could do with such limited time and resources was to snatch a few garments from various merchants when he was sure they wouldn't take notice. As he stood now, a long, silky fabric draped over his forearms and behind his back to conceal the shimmering gold of his bracelets, but softly tinkling bells had been strapped to his ankles for good measure. A veil fell over his nose and mouth while the filmy, transparent fabric of his skirt clung to his slender legs, and a loose garment fell over his upper chest and golden necklace in some vain attempt to conceal his lack of endowment. His dark hair had been set free from its heavy braid and spilled effortlessly over his shoulders, though it had a tendency to drag along the ground when he walked, and Judal silently prayed that no one would step on it in the crowded streets. He decided that it might be easiest to masquerade as a woman, and from the response he received, was fairly confident that he could pull it off.

Judal vaguely wondered if Sinbad would find him attractive, dressed in all white, so vastly different from his usual, ebony-clad form. Sinbad was always basking in a sheen of bright white; it flocked to him and washed over him in gentle waves, and Judal often felt as though that light were too overpowering for him to bear. Judal, the black sun, felt as though Sinbad's light could swallow up every ounce of darkness within him without the slightest hesitation, and yet there was a part of him that didn't mind that. Judal couldn't help but think that white rather suited him, and perhaps Sinbad might think so too.

Although the disguise was intended to draw attention away from Judal, now it seemed to do anything but. While Judal usually did not mind the attention, the hushed comments and the awe-filled stares, it was a bit of a nuisance now, when he was making a genuine effort to be discreet. That couldn't be helped, though. Regardless of where he went or how he dressed, Judal was always at the center of attention, whether he liked that or not.

The palace grounds were always beautiful, but they were especially breathtaking now, with the lanterns strung up from the trees and the pleasant aroma of the feast wafting through the courtyard. Already there were people dancing to the beat of the tabla and the sitar as music and laughter filled the air, but Judal was quickly beginning to feel claustrophobic. He had come here prepared only to meet Sinbad, not to face all of this, and suddenly he felt as though he never should have come.

As soon as Judal turned to leave, his eyes locked with Sinbad's. It wasn't hard to find him, glistening in jewelry and draped in beautiful exotic women, but the moment scarlet met gold Judal felt his heart stop. He watched, paralyzed, as Sinbad stared back at him with wide eyes, and after a moment of silence he whispered something to the women who groaned and whined in protest. Judal's pulse quickened when Sinbad stood and approached, with a swagger in his step that Judal could not differentiate between confidence and intoxication. Perhaps there was a bit of both.

Sinbad stopped before him, almost too close, and Judal fought the desire to take a step back. "I knew there was something different about you," he began softly with lips curled into a smirk, and a shiver went through Judal at the sultry simper in his breath.

Judal was prepared to spit something bitter back at him, but something stopped him before he could. Something was different about Sinbad; there was a look in his eyes that Judal could not place, something that he had never seen before, and if he had it was surely never directed at him. The warmth in his features chilled Judal to the bone, it was something so foreign to him, so different and kind and loving that Judal's heart caught in his throat. The Sinbad he knew would never look at him like this.

Judal swallowed. "I..."

"What is your name, fair princess?"

Judal froze. Sinbad didn't recognize him. Judal was certain that his disguise was obvious enough; he had done very little in the way of concealing the nature of his true appearance, but maybe if Sinbad was just a little drunk or stupid enough, he might actually be deceived. Judal hadn't intended for this to happen, the disguise was only a precaution, but if Sinbad really didn't recognize him...

"I am no princess," Judal retorted with a roll of his eyes, raising his pitch just slightly, and the veil muffling the movement of his lips rendered his voice just different enough. "And my name doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Sinbad purred, reaching up a hand to rest upon Judal's cheek, only for him to slap it away. If Sinbad even accidentally managed to pull down his veil, Judal was sure he would be furious at being fooled, and the magi wasn't ready to face that yet.

"It shouldn't," Judal grumbled, hoping that Sinbad might take the hint. He didn't.

Sinbad's smirk only grew, and he chose to rest his hand upon Judal's shoulder instead. "How could I convince you to tell me?"

"What do you have to offer?" Judal asked, eyes narrowing.

"Well," he began, "you don't seem like the sort of woman to want money." Judal tried not to cringe at 'woman'. "Nor anything material I might have to offer. Perhaps I could convince you with a dance?"

Judal's breath hitched. Sinbad had always been so unattainable, so distant, something that Judal could never have despite all his years of yearning. And yet here was Sinbad, palm outstretched with a smile, asking him to dance. Judal couldn't wrap his head around it. Despite any hopes he might still have, Judal always knew deep within himself that Sinbad would never care for him. This sudden, newfound affection wasn't for Judal, but for the mysterious, nameless woman of his disguise. But oddly enough, that was fine. As long as Sinbad wanted him in this very moment, just for a split second, Judal could live with that.

"Maybe," he whispered, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. Sinbad was quick to grin as he slipped Judal's soft hand into his own and guided him out to the center of the crowded courtyard. Judal's head was spinning, but Sinbad's hand, warm and steady in his grip, was reassurance enough. Still, he couldn't imagine how he was going to dance when he could hardly remain upright.

"Don't look so nervous," Sinbad chuckled, and Judal frowned.

"I'm not," he lied, heart racing. The commotion around them slowly began to dim, and Judal could feel the countless eyes on him; the King and his partner. "People are going to stare," he murmured, as if that would change anything. Judal wouldn't have minded so much if it were just him, he was used to the attention after all, but this wasn't just him, it was him and Sinbad, High King of the Seven Seas, the want of every woman in the kingdom.

"That doesn't matter," said Sinbad with a reassuring smile. "As beautiful as you are, I thought you'd be used to it." Judal turned red.

At the first pluck of the sitar, the first steady beat of the tabla, nothing mattered anymore. They circled each other, Sinbad confident and in control, and Judal softer, nervous but fluid as he felt the grain of the stone beneath his bare feet. Amber locked with crimson as the beat picked up, in time with Judal's heartbeat, and any trepidation he may have had was immediately alleviated once the music coursed through his body.

The music of Sindria was nothing like that of Kou, fast and erratic and upbeat, nothing like the regal, melodious hum of the festivities in Kou. Judal much preferred to dance this way, loose and free and here, with Sinbad. Judal's hips rolled in time with the beat, the bells at his ankles clinked at his every step, and he could feel the hunger in the onlookers' gazes, but they didn't seem to matter anymore. The only person he cared about now, in this moment, was Sinbad.

Judal shed every bit of worry and every ounce of nervousness within him. He felt himself laugh and looked up to see Sinbad grinning back at him, eyes bright and glowing as he gazed into him. Judal forgot to care that Sinbad didn't know who he was, that this would all be over in a matter of seconds as the beat neared its climax, he didn't care. All he cared about was his body moving in time with Sinbad, heart and mind in sync, and for a split second, Judal was allowed to forget who he was.

With the final note of the song, Sinbad pulled Judal into his embrace, and they stood like that, bodies pressed up against each other. Judal faintly heard applause from onlookers in the distance, but he couldn't be bothered to notice, not when he was this close to Sinbad, could see the beads of sweat dripping from his forehead, could feel his chest rise and fall in the effort to regain his lost breath. Sinbad was grinning down at him, and as Judal smiled back up at him, he felt as though he were going to melt.

"Now," he breathed, "how about a name?"

Judal came crashing back to reality. He couldn't admit who he was, not now, not after that rush of emotion; he couldn't bear to watch Sinbad's features twist in familiar disgust and hatred, to humiliate him in front of all these people. He didn't think he could stand it. "I... ah..."

"Wait," Sinbad paused, gazing deep into Judal's features. Judal's chest tightened. "Those eyes... I've seen those eyes before," he began, eyes widening in disbelief as he raised a hand, and Judal shoved out of his arms before Sinbad could lift the veil. He knew that he had pushed his luck to remain here so long as he turned and shoved his way through the dense crowd. Already, whispers were beginning to circulate around him, but Judal didn't care, he had to get out of this place, out of this stupid country where everyone was happy, and away from that _stupid_ king.

"Wait!" Sinbad called again, "Judal!"

The magi cringed, but didn't hesitate. There was no doubt in Judal's mind that any look of adoration, desire and want in Sinbad would never rightfully be spared for him, and he didn't want to live in a fantasy any longer. This infatuation with Sinbad had caused him nothing but agony, and Judal was tired of suffering from it. Judal broke free from the palace grounds and Sinbad's calls fell on deaf ears as he snatched his carefully hidden magic carpet and flew off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u cant just tell me that sindria is based off of india and expect me, an indian, not to insert a bollywood dance scene lmao like


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Sinbad is Afraid of Commitment and Judal has Lots of Teenage Feelings (sorry in advance @ judal)
> 
> things have been moving really slowly so far but everything will pick up the pace soon i think!
> 
> feedback is greatly appreciated !!

The party was still roaring by the time Sinbad went to retire for the night. The night's festivities had suddenly felt almost uncomfortably empty once Judal had gone, and Sinbad didn't want to have to think about why.

And yet, the thoughts drifted to him nonetheless. It was ironic, really; that the festival thrown for the specific purpose of _forgetting_ about Judal was crashed by him, of all people. It was so like Judal that Sinbad really wasn't surprised, but the magi had behaved so strangely in his presence that he didn't know what to think anymore. If Judal's intentions were difficult to place before, they were impossible now.

He vaguely understood that he should have been angry. Sinbad should have been bitter and upset and indignant at being made a fool of by Judal, and yet he wasn't. Though he almost wished that he was; it would be much easier to sort through his feelings that way.

Sinbad let out a deep sigh, raking a hand through his hair as he gazed out over the Kingdom from his balcony. Admittedly there had been something so strangely familiar about that lithe, svelte figure, the flawless pale skin, the waterfall of dark hair; he should have figured it out sooner, with how obvious Judal had been with his 'disguise'. However, there was a glaringly obvious reason as to why Sinbad had been drawn to that dancer, reluctant as he was to admit it. There was that implacable familiarity, from the enticing sway of his hips to the flashing red of his ringed eyes, everything had just _screamed_ Judal.

Perhaps there was a deep, buried part of Sinbad that had been silently searching for Judal, or rather his essence amongst the sea of heads. Even if that were the case, he certainly hadn't expected to find the real thing.

Sinbad had a type, that was all, that was the only reason as to this sudden obsession. Though, he couldn't deny that Judal was such a lovely dancer...

"Sin!" His train of thought was cut off when Ja'far came bustling into the room, pale brows drawn together in frustration as Sinbad turned to face him. "Are you alright? I saw what happened in the courtyard; did that magi do anything to you?"

Ja'far was fuming. If it were any other time, Sinbad might've laughed to see his collected advisor so exasperated, but his thoughts were too cloudy for him to find any amusement in the situation. "What? No, no, I'm fine, Ja'far," he assured, waving a hand.

"What do you mean, you're fine? That magi... He could have attacked you!"

"He could have, but he didn't," said Sinbad with a shrug. That spoke louder than any words; in the past, Judal might've used such an excuse to fight Sinbad, to try and kill him as he always professed to do, or at least to mock and humiliate him, and yet tonight none of that had happened. Judal truly hadn't done much more than dance, and with Sinbad, of all people. One didn't share a passionate dance with a person they were trying to kill, nor did they constantly pay friendly visits to said person. It was almost as though the magi sought friendship from whatever tentative, mutual understanding Sinbad had with Judal. Skeptical though he was, Sinbad had begun to realize that Judal's intentions lay deeper than the urge to kill, and something about that thought was almost endearing.

"But he could have!" cried Ja'far, growing increasingly more animated with every word. "He constantly endangers both you and your kingdom-I don't even know how he gets through Yamuraiha's barrier-and why are you smiling?"

Sinbad hadn't noticed the upward curve at the edge of his lips, as unusually pleasant thoughts of Judal continued to swirl within his mind. "Am I?" He asked, almost as though he were waking up from a dream, "I hadn't noticed."

Gazing into his features with a harsh intensity, Ja'far suddenly frowned. "Oh, god. You like him, don't you?"

"What?" Sinbad scoffed, looking away. "No I don't."

"Sin," Ja'far sighed, shaking his head. "You can't pursue the magi. You know what he's done to us, and to Sindria. He'd endanger you and your people. Every time he's here, everything you've worked for is in danger."

For a moment, Sinbad fell silent. He had to ask himself if Ja'far was right, if he really did have some sort of interest in Judal. From the way he acted, it was hard not to think that there was something between them. How Sinbad always allowed Judal access through the borders, his growing leniency when Judal hung around the palace stirring up mischief. Something just seemed so _different_ about him though, at least recently, there was just something so inexplicably benevolent and playful about the magi that Sinbad had no choice but to let down his guard. He sighed.

"I really think Judal has changed. Or that he's trying to, at least. Oh, don't look at me like that, Ja'far!"

If anything, Ja'far's features twisted further with worry. Though he was calmer, now, Sinbad could practically see the wheels turning in his head and the puffs of smoke coming out of his ears. "Even if he has," Ja'far began, struggling to keep his voice calm, "this is not a risk we can take. There are other beautiful people in this country, pick any one. But that magi is dangerous, Sin. You can't let him get too close."

"So you admit he's beautiful?"

_"Sinbad."_

Reluctant though he was to admit it, Sinbad knew that Ja'far was right. That was part of the reason he had chosen Ja'far as his advisor; aside from their close friendship, the man was wise beyond his years, and Sinbad knew he kept a level head. Sinbad had always known that Judal was dangerous, so this had to be little more than lust, a passing infatuation. No matter how captivating or interesting Judal appeared, Sinbad would move onto someone else in less than a week. He always did.

"You're right," Sinbad conceded with a deep sigh. "I doubt he'd be back soon anyways, with the way he left."

Ja'far looked at Sinbad for a moment without saying anything, before he nodded slowly and exhaled. "I know you feel something for him, Sin, whatever that might be, and I'm sorry. Just remember who he is. This is what's best for Sindria."

"I know." Besides, if by chance he did have feelings for Judal, and tried to pursue him, what chance was there that Judal would reciprocate? Judal was an enigma that could never be controlled, no matter how nice it might be to have him. Sinbad didn't want to jump to such an idea quite yet-to the idea of "having" Judal-but there was certainly something in Judal worth saving, if that desperate look in his eyes was any indicator. For now, though, Sinbad would put these trivial thoughts out of his mind and concentrate on more important things.

Though, after Ja'far left and bid him goodnight, all Sinbad could think about was the lovely silhouette of Judal's pale, slender legs concealed beneath the sheen of translucent fabric.

* * *

Something was very wrong with Judal.

His connection with the black rukh had been uncomfortably off, as of late. The white ones were still there, sure and strong as ever, but three days after the turn of events at the Sindrian festival, there was something missing. Darkness had always flooded to Judal, it clung and festered around him; it was natural. It was the way he was. And yet, they felt so distant now, never getting too close, but always just there, just out of reach. Maybe Sinbad was rubbing off on him. Either way, the whole thing was starting to give Judal a headache.

Judal had _specifically_ told the priests that he wasn't ready for another ritual. He couldn't do it today, not when his magoi was like this (though he conveniently decided to leave that part out of his refusal). He knew that he would crumble beneath the high intensity of the procedure, as he suffered even when his rukh was in an ideal state. But his will had never stopped them before, and this time was no different. Judal couldn't recall the last time he had actually gotten sick, but now, battered and exhausted, he felt worse than he had in years.

Judal had resigned to his bed at an unusually early hour, only to find that he couldn't sleep. Somehow, this time alone with his thoughts was worse than any torture Al-Thamen could set upon him.

He didn't bother to turn at the soft rap on the bedroom door, but after a while it opened anyway. "Are you feeling any better?" came Kougyoku's gentle voice, cautious as not to rouse him from the sleep he wasn't getting anyways. "I brought you some peaches."

"I'm not hungry."

Kougyoku nearly dropped the platter. "What?" She shrieked, and took care to soften her voice at his wince. "What do you mean, you're not hungry? You never turn down peaches."

Still refusing to face her, Judal gave a noncomittal grunt. "I don't have an appetite."

He heard a soft clatter as the plate was set upon the bedside table and the rustling of Kougyoku's robes as she came around to face him. "Something's wrong."

"No, really?" He rolled his eyes. "I didn't notice."

Kougyoku stuck out her bottom lip in that way she did when upset or immersed in deep thought. As she brushed aside his dark bangs and pressed a careful hand to his sweat-dampened forehead, her frown deepened.

"You're burning up. What did they do to you this time? Does this have something to do with Sinbad?"

Judal was sure his face felt even hotter. "No. The idiot is irrelevant."

"He doesn't sound irrelevant." Kougyoku crossed her arms and took a seat at the foot of his bed. "What _did_ happen when you last went to see him? You never told me."

"There was nothing to tell," he insisted and rolled again to face away, pulling red embroidered silk sheets up to his face. "Nothing happened."

"Something happened, if you're acting like this."

"We danced, alright!?" Judal shot up from where he lay, glaring at her with a blush as deep as the red rings of his eyes. Though, that could have just been the fever. "Are you happy now, old hag?" Feeling a sudden dizziness come over him, he threw himself back down into the pillow and turned his face away.

Kougyoku was silent for a moment, as Judal lay amongst his pillows and tried to ignore her. "So... What's the problem?"

"I _danced_ with him," he grumbled, voice muffled in the plush sheets.

The princess raised an eyebrow, seeming perplexed. "I thought you wanted to get closer to him?"

"He didn't even recognize me! He thought I was a woman, and everyone was staring at us, and I'm almost positive that he hates me now, if he didn't already. It was a _disaster_."

The princess hid her face with a long sleeve as she giggled softly, and Judal rolled over-if only to shoot her a glare. "I'm sorry," she insisted, with mirth still reflected in her roseate eyes. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad. I'm sure it was fine."

"You don't know that."

She frowned. "Well, no, but-"

"I don't want to talk about the idiot right now," Judal murmured, snuggling deep into his bed with a sniff. "I just want to sleep."

Behind him, Kougyoku's features softened as she rose from where she sat and went around to him, resting her frail hand upon his shoulder. From the touch alone, she could tell that he was trembling. "I know that they raised you, and all, but... You shouldn't let them do this to you anymore."

"I told you not to worry."

"How do you expect me not to worry when you end up like this?"

Judal was silent. Lately, he wasn't quite sure how to feel about Al-Thamen, at least not the way he used to. He had used to love the warmongering, the destruction, the thick, sticky darkness that shrouded the priests and him with them. It was fun, at least it had been, but lately Judal had been questioning things. He had been questioning the things that he couldn't even remember, things that had been ingrained in him since infancy-all of the constant war and fighting and pain, and he was tired. Judal had grown tired of their hateful rhetoric and bloodlust, but he was especially tired of the things they did to his body when no one was looking. Half the time, he could barely even remember what they did, but every day he hurt more than he did the last. Judal was thoroughly exhausted.

"It's whatever," he sighed, voice faintly trembling, smudged violet kohl glittering as he allowed his eyes to slip shut. "It's not like I could do anything to stop them. I'm used to it."

Judal opened his eyes when he heard a sniffle that was not his own, and there was Kougyoku, sleeves pulled up to hide her tearful expression as something glassy gleamed at the corners of her eyes. "Judal, you're _hurt_."

"I told you, I'm _fine_."

"But-But you're not!" she insisted, "you might not notice them anymore, but I see the bruises whenever they finish with you, and I know you're trying to be strong but they're really hurting you, and I hate to see you like this because you're the only friend I've ever had, and I-"

"Kougyoku," Judal began, forcing himself to sit up in spite of the throbbing in his head and the ache in his bones, and Kougyoku fell silent-if just in shock at the use of her actual name. "I'll be _fine_. I've lived this long, haven't I?"

For a moment, Kougyoku didn't say anything, and Judal watched with tired eyes as she gnawed at her lip, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for being so careless with his health.

"You were always the one who told me to be strong," she said after a while, voice strained against tears. "But it's okay not to be strong all the time, Judal. I just... I don't know what I would do without you..."

Judal shrugged and lay back down on the bed. "I guess we'll never find out, because I'm not going anywhere."

He offered a wry smile, but the agony behind it was almost painful to watch, the strain in his features as he felt aftershocks of pain coursing through his slender frame. He should have gone to see a healer by now, but there was no one to heal him here; when Al-Thamen ran everything in Kou, he was on his own.

Kougyoku sighed, clearly unconvinced, but she nodded at Judal and smiled back as well as she could. "Get some rest, Judal."

She left without a sound, and after a moment of thought, Judal reached over and selected a ripened peach from the platter on the table.

* * *

A week had passed since the festival, and still, all Sinbad could think about was Judal.

Sinbad went through partners as easily as he changed clothes. He was dubbed The Lady Killer of the Seven Seas for good reason. Servants gossiped that half the women in Sindria had seen his bed, and really, they weren't wrong. But of all people to be hung up over, it was _Judal_. Sinbad had never truly considered men, until now, but even then he was usually past infatuation by this point. There was something about Judal that he couldn't shake, and he wasn't sure if that was comforting or terrifying. He was leaning more towards terrifying.

Sinbad was reasonably young, he was very handsome, and he was of no mind to settle down anytime soon. There was no reason to worry about marriage when there were no significant political bonds to be made, so he could keep having fun as he liked. That was why the thought alone of Judal was so terrifying to him; if by chance he did feel something for the magi, then his whole life would have to change. He couldn't fool around with women anymore-his reputation would surely suffer from that-and he would be thoroughly and completely tied down. Sinbad wasn't used to that sort of domestic life, and he certainly wasn't ready for it.

It wasn't as though the thought of coming home to Judal was... unappealing. But Sinbad reminded himself that those were precisely the sort of thoughts he was trying to kill.

 _"There are many other beautiful people in this country,"_ Ja'far had told him, _"pick any one."_ And suddenly, that idea didn't seem all too bad.

Sinbad was almost ashamed to wind up in a brothel, so ashamed that he had taken to wearing a cloak over his head for the occasion. Lately, it was the women who came to him, and it had been nearly a decade since Sinbad found himself in the likes of a place like this. But a lay from a brothel was just about as good as any other, and considering recent events, Sinbad was desperate enough to swallow his pride for a single night.

The heady scent hit Sinbad as soon as he opened the door, but it was not unpleasant, rather alluring.

"Can I help you?" A sultry voice greeted him the moment he stepped inside, as delicate fingers clasped onto his calloused hand. There was a second in which his wandering mind compared the softness of her hand to the similar feeling of Judal's, but that was the only similarity between them. Blonde, blue-eyed, and unmistakably female beneath her revealing garb, this woman was nothing like Judal.

"That depends," Sinbad began, and the shadow of a smile crossed his features as he removed the hood of his cloak. The woman's smile disappeared at the realization, though Sinbad's only grew. "What do you have to offer?" He asked, and the woman regained her footing with a smirk.

* * *

"And where do you think you're going, High Priest?"

Judal cursed under his breath, and turned to face a veiled member of Al-Thamen. "That's my business. Mind your own." A week had passed since he last saw Sinbad, and he finally felt as though he had recovered enough to face the King. Embarrassed though he was, and still aching from the most recent ritual, this was not something that could be avoided forever. Besides, there was a small part of him that wanted to see Sinbad again, even if he was an idiot.

The low priest took a moment to gather a response. "As much as your freedom is valued, magi, the Empress has requested your presence this evening-"

"Yeah, well, the Empress can choke," Judal scoffed, and turned on his heel. "I'll be back soon."

He heard a growl of frustration. "Magi!" The priest called, annoyed, and grabbed Judal by the arm. "You can't-"

As soon as he felt the touch it did not take a second for Judal to blast the priest back with his borg. "Watch me!" he spat as the cloaked figure collided with a wall, and Judal dusted off his arm as though the hand had burned him. "I'll do whatever the hell I want," he decided, and vanished on his magic carpet before anyone could argue.

Judal had always liked strong people, but with Sinbad it was more than that. In strength there was more than just power, there was safety. It was silly to think, but Judal had never felt very safe in Kou, there was alway something looming over him, something on the tip of his tongue that he couldn't quite seem to recall, but stirred anxiety within him all the same. With Sinbad, there was none of that, and there was something comforting about that thought.

He wondered if Sinbad would be angry at him for the commotion he had caused the other night. Sinbad was always angry at him, one way or another, so it wouldn't change things if he were. But Judal felt a certain reluctance all the same, to have to face that familiar coldness all over again. He wished that Sinbad could look at him how he did that night, with such warmth and tenderness, even if that look could never be spared for the person he really was. But that was alright, Judal decided as he soared above Kou, the frigid wind sweeping back his hair. That was fine, as long as Sinbad was looking at him.

When he finally arrived at the palace there was no commotion, no glittering lanterns illuminating the streets nor any of the familiar gaudy decorations. It felt unusually still and quiet, but Judal didn't really mind. If there were no festivities then it would be easier to get a moment alone with Sinbad, and it was less likely for him to be busy at an hour like this.

 _"You can come another time, then. When I'm not this preoccupied,"_ Sinbad had told him once, so perhaps he wouldn't be too cross at the sight of Judal, especially since he was going for a more peaceful visit this time than the last.

He slipped in through the window of Sinbad's room and found it empty. Judal pulled a frown. Odd, he thought, for Sinbad to be out at this late hour, especially on such a quiet night. He knew that Sinbad liked to party, but there was nowhere else for him to be tonight. Judal thought on it for a moment, and decided that he was most likely up late finishing his paperwork. Judal was glad he would never have to be a king.

Judal yawned and reclined on the overly extravagant bed. He had never seen Sinbad's room firsthand before, and a chill went through his spine at the implications of it. He would have liked to first enter this room alongside Sinbad, preferably in his arms, but Judal supposed that this was acceptable too.

Time dragged on, and the longer he waited, the more anxious Judal became. The idea that he may have travelled all this way for nothing, just to find out that the idiot was away on business or too drunk to find his way home, was almost too much to bear. The frequent trips to Sindria were beginning to tire him, but with a grin, he considered that he might no longer need to go far to meet with Sinbad, if things went well. It wasn't like Sinbad had ever been receptive to him before, but he could always hope.

As he finally began to drift off into sleep, Judal was jolted awake at the sound of the door cracking open. Judal shot up immediately and took a breath to steady himself, but when he turned to the door, he swore that his heart stopped.

Sinbad was not alone.

A woman clung to his arm, blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful, everything that Judal wasn't. It took Sinbad a moment to notice that he wasn't alone with her, but when at last his gaze fell on Judal, his smile vanished.

"Judal?"

Judal's mouth went dry. He forgot how to speak. All he could feel was the sickness in his stomach, and suddenly he didn't know whether to scream or cry or throw up, but the fresh tears that welled in his eyes made the choice for him.

"Who's this, Sin?" The woman cooed, leaning closer to him as she giggled in that lilting, alluring voice. "I didn't think you liked men."

"I don't," Sinbad answered quickly, as though it were instinct, and then realized with wide eyes just what he had said. "Wait, that's not-"

Judal had already stopped listening. Those two words had struck deeper than any pain he'd ever endured, hurt more than any torture Al-Thamen had ever forced upon him, and Judal felt like he was shaking.

"I never should have come here," he said quickly, shoving himself off of the bed and stumbling as he went for the window.

"Judal," he started, reaching out a hand, "that's not what I-"

"Just forget it!" Judal spat, cheeks burning hot with shame. "I wish I'd never felt anything for an idiot king like you!"

At that, Sinbad froze just long enough for Judal to slip out the window without another word. All that remained in his wake was the rustling of curtains and the soft fragrances of jasmine, sea breeze, and peaches.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm starting to notice that Judal suffers a lot in these lmao.. sorry baby
> 
> I genuinely don't know how I got this out on time… My health was really bad this past week; I have chronic back pain and it can get exhausting. If any chapters are late in the future it's due to either this or schoolwork, so I apologize in advance!
> 
> Also, thank you so much for all of your kind words and feedback! Reviews/comments genuinely bring tears to my eyes I'm just :) thank you all so much!
> 
> [Warning: This chapter does include mentions of abuse, but I try to keep it pretty vague for the most part.]

Judal couldn't remember the last time he had really, truly cried.

He had always been taught that such emotions were meaningless and unfounded. Any expression of such trivial emotion had been dealt with accordingly, so he learned very quickly how to swallow his feelings without batting an eyelash. This, though, was something that couldn't be swallowed, something that had pierced so deep into him that Judal had to let it out somewhere, or else he would really lose his mind.

This feeling was so unfamiliar to him, so surreal, the thought that he might actually be rejected. Judal didn't really think he had the right to be upset, there was nothing between him and Sinbad to begin with, but he had never really seen the King with a woman. It was easier not to think about, so he didn't, but seeing was different. It was humiliating. He was naive to ever think that anything of substance could come from his childish desire. There was really no reason for him to be crying, there wasn't a thing shared between Sinbad and Judal, but now he knew for a fact that there never would be.

The tears ghosting down the curve of his pale cheeks were so foreign to Judal, this was something he hadn't felt since he was a little child. He was so accustomed to the constant pain that it didn't really seem worth mentioning, but this felt like knives in his stomach. In Sinbad, there had been hope and light, and perhaps even his only prayer to be free of this awful place. But now, that was gone, and Judal felt nothing but emptiness.

Perhaps he may have been overreacting, if only a little, but Judal was hurting. That was all that mattered.

He arrived late back at the palace, past midnight and in a foul mood. Judal wanted nothing more than to bury his tears in a pillow until there were none left within him. He wanted nothing more than to put this whole mess behind him and pretend like it never happened. Before he could reach his chambers, though, something stopped him.

Gyokuen Ren was a woman with a very benevolent appearance. With her tiny frame she seemed so soft and demure, and she was never without her gentle little smile. Bathed in the dim glow of the moonlight from where she stood in the entrance, something about the empress seemed rather ethereal, though Judal would easily compare her likeness to that of a devil rather than an angel.

"My dear Judal," she cooed, and the magi felt a shiver run down his spine. Though her pretty lips curved with a smile, Judal had never felt quite so unsettled by her. She had been lethal before; she was always a threat, but this was something different. "How was your trip?"

"Fine."

"I'm glad," she said with a simper. "Though," Gyokuen went on, "were you not to present yourself before me yesterday evening? I could have sworn I sent an attendant to fetch you."

"Yeah, that's my bad," Judal grumbled, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Maybe tomorrow. I don't feel too hot right now." To deny Gyokuen was a death sentence, that he knew, but he would face the consequences twofold if she found out the truth. Freedom was scarce for him to begin with, but it was unwise to spend that free time pining over Sinbad, a man carefully selected by the organization for their schemes. Though Judal had ignored it until now, Kougyoku had been right to suggest that Al-Thamen was tiring of his impudence, and he could already feel the false sweetness around Gyokuen beginning to dissipate.

"I see," she began as she approached him, stalking him as though she were a predator. Every instinct in Judal was telling him to run, to lash out, to do something, but he was frozen there, powerless, bloody eyes locked evenly with her azure gaze. If he hadn't noticed the other priests in the vicinity, trapping him where he stood, Judal would have been long gone. "Well, Judal, this isn't the first time you've failed to meet my expectations," she said, too calmly as she extended a hand to card through his long, silken braid. Judal felt like he was going to throw up.

"My... apologies," he ground out the words as though they were poison. Gyokuen had been cross with him before, but it was never like this. He'd seen his fair share of punishment, he'd lived long enough to know suffering, but something was going horribly wrong. He could sense it. Already he was running scenarios through his mind; he wasn't fast, so he couldn't get far if he ran, he was too exhausted from the ride home to stand and fight. Even then, no one could hear him if he screamed and even if they did, what could anyone do?

"Apologetic though you may be," she continued, and there was that ice in her words, piercing like daggers through her benevolent smile. "I'm not sure if you serve much of a purpose to me any longer."

Judal's blood ran cold. "Wha-"

"My poor, sweet Judal," she went on, pulling a frown as she trailed a hand through the length of his hair. "So useless and stupid." His breath hitched as she played with his braid, coiling it around her graceful hand until she reached the ends and let it slip through her fingers. "There are more magi in this world than ever before, did you really think I would have use for a disobedient one?"

Judal understood a second too late. He lurched forward but the priests' hands were already on him, yanking him back by his hair, his clothes, clawing at his exposed skin. Judal cried out at the rough treatment as he thrust a hand into his chunnari, but the second his fingers snatched the wand it was knocked from his hand and went clattering to the floor. Judal made a dive for it, wincing as his elbows skinned the harsh ground, but once the silver rod rolled to Gyokuen's feet, his heart stopped.

She bent to pick it up; slow and graceful, delicate pale fingers curling around the handle as though she were admiring a pretty trinket. Judal, helpless, could only watch with horror-filled anticipation.

"My, such a pretty little thing," she hummed, gaze shifting evenly from the gleaming silver wand dangling in her fingers to Judal, rendered a trembling heap on the floor, eyes wide with terror. With a single flick of her wrist she snapped the wand in two, red jewel shattering as it hit the tile, and Judal winced at the sound.

"I wonder, my dear Judal," she purred, kneeling beside him, carding a hand through his hair as her easy smile shifted to something more sinister. "Would you break just as easily?"

* * *

 

Sinbad couldn't remember the last time he'd ever turned down a woman.

He couldn't finish what he had started, not after witnessing that heartbroken look on Judal's face, not after listening to the tears straining his voice. Sinbad wasn't so heartless as to carry on after that, so he paid the woman generously for her time and opted to wallow in his regret and self-pity alone.

Looking back, perhaps he could have gone about his feelings a bit better than he actually did. The last thing Sinbad intended to do was humiliate Judal, but in all fairness he hadn't expected the magi to show up out of nowhere. Actually speaking with Judal may have had a better effect than trying to shut him out completely, but after the damage had been done, Sinbad doubted he would be able to speak to Judal any time soon.

As much as he tried to avoid it, to think of other things, Sinbad found himself dwelling on Judal's tear-choked confession. Sinbad had to wonder whether that was the reason for Judal's presence at the palace, and he couldn't help but feel intense guilt and remorse gnawing at him. Sinbad had never considered himself to be particularly cruel, but after seeing Judal so devastated, so heartbroken, he felt awfully antagonistic for once.

Sinbad had never seen a look like that on Judal. Lately, Sinbad felt like he knew less and less of who Judal truly was as a person. A part of him always thought back on that pompous little brat from Parthevia who could bring down a nation without batting an eyelash, but now Judal was something different altogether. Back then he was so tiny, so self-important-and Sinbad supposed Judal was still both of those things, to a lesser extent-but there were other things too. He still liked to cause trouble, but no one really got hurt anymore. He liked to bother Sinbad, but he knew when to stop. And then there was the night at the festival, the bell-like ringing of Judal's laugh, pure and benevolent, and the softness of his deep, red-ringed eyes.

Sinbad couldn't find anything dreadful in those eyes anymore. It was always suggested that the eyes were windows to the soul, and Judal was no exception. Once, those eyes had been hollow, sinister even, yet now they were gentler, almost kind, although not quite that. Sometimes Sinbad didn't feel like he knew who Judal was anymore, but if he was anything like this oddly gentle, placated version of himself, then perhaps that was alright.

Three days had gone by since Sinbad heard anything from Judal. He didn't pay his visits too often, only once in a while, but every minute that passed without a word from the magi only caused Sinbad to grow more anxious. He could only hope that Judal wouldn't do anything rash in his current state, but Sinbad had a bad feeling that he couldn't seem to shake. He sincerely hoped that his suspicions were unfounded.

Too often, Sinbad found himself gazing over the city, growing much too excited at every head of dark hair and feeling much too let down when it wasn't Judal.

"You doing okay, Sinbad?"

If Sharrkan, of all people, could have the gall to ask him what was wrong, then something was certainly amiss. Sinbad had internalized his dilemma as well as he could to maintain order within his thoughts as well as his kingdom, but it seemed as though he wasn't as stealthy as he so believed.

"I'm fine," Sinbad said with a sigh, in a way that very clearly insinuated that he wasn't.

"You sure about that?" He asked again, shooting Sinbad a quizzical look. "You don't look fine."

"I just have a lot on my mind," Sinbad raked a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. Which was not exactly a lie, but perhaps vague enough for Sharrkan not to pry. Sinbad hadn't told anyone about what had happened three nights ago, partly out of shame and partly out of loyalty to Judal. It was an odd thing to think of it as that, loyalty, when never once before had Sinbad and Judal been loyal to each other for any reason. It was strange to think about.

"Oh," Sharrkan went on, viridian eyes lighting up with amusement. "There's a special lady on your mind, isn't there?"

Sinbad couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the idea. "Something like that, I suppose."

"Is that so?" He grinned. "I didn't figure you the type of man to have trouble with the ladies."

Sinbad laughed evenly. "And I figured you the type to have spoken at least a single coherent sentence to Yamuraiha, by now."

Sharrkan's grin vanished, and was replaced quickly with a faint blush. "Yeah, well," he grumbled, "it seems like neither of us are very lucky in the love department."

"It seems that way," Sinbad agreed with a smile. Though, if Sharrkan of all people had the room to advise him in the ways of love, then perhaps Sinbad really was unlucky. It certainly seemed like luck was against him, as it was. Maybe that was the problem; Sinbad didn't have trouble with the ladies. He had trouble with Judal.

* * *

 

Judal woke up screaming.

In his delirious state, dream and reality blended together, and Judal had himself convinced that it had all been a dream. It had to be. His breath eased for a moment at the thought, but he felt a stiffness in his side and a tightness in his chest that wasn't there before. He knew something was wrong.

"Judal! It's okay, relax!" Kougyoku was at his side in a second, but from the dried tears staining her cheeks he knew that this was not okay. She took his hand in hers, gentle but reassuring, and he did his best to calm down. "You're safe now. Just breathe."

He took a breath, because that was all he felt like he could do, and some clarity returned to his mind. This was nothing that hadn't been done to him before. It had just been so long, he thought that they were done with that. Not since he was a child had Judal been hurt so gravely, not like this, and the worst part was that he hadn't seen it coming. If he'd had the time to prepare for the feeling of those rough hands on him, tearing at his clothes and skin and hair as though he were a doll, perhaps he might've been able to bear it. But this was too much.

"How are you feeling, Judal?" a distinctly male voice asked, and Judal tensed at the sound. He hadn't noticed Kouen's presence in the room, looming over him with features twisted in concern.

"I..." he began, voice hoarse, "I'm okay."

"That's good," said Kougyoku, and he welcomed her careful fingers brushing back his bangs. "I'm glad."

"Judal," Kouen began with some hesitation. He outstretched a hand to be of some comfort, but Judal cringed at the gesture and shrank back. Kouen's eyes were wide for a second, but he drew back, understanding. "Judal, what happened?"

It took Judal a moment to register the words. He could barely remember what was done to him but for the obvious things. He braced himself as he lifted the sheets and found a patchwork of bandages over his torso, his legs, stained with blood as though no limbs were left untouched. This, this was a body that Sinbad could never love. Judal choked back a sob and quickly dropped the sheets.

Kougyoku sighed. "Ka Koubun did his best to heal you, but he doesn't have all of the best resources. Al-Thamen won't give us access to anything either."

Judal felt numb. This was a nightmare. There were scars before, of course, but ones that he'd always carefully hidden. Old scars rippled across his collarbone, across his hips, blossomed between his thighs, but these were fresh. These were new and raw and he hated what they would look like and hated the faint stench of blood that came with them. Judal wanted to throw up.

Trembling almost to hysteria, his hands clawed up to his face and hair and he breathed a shaky sigh of relief when both were found perfectly intact. Matted and sticky with blood though it was, at least he still had his hair. Judal was sure he would have really lost his mind if they'd cut off his long hair, his one last vanity. Regardless of whatever they could do to him or take away, at least he still had this.

He didn't notice Kouen's eyes soften in something almost akin to sympathy, but he heard the deep, calm voice penetrate through his thoughts. "Tell us why they did this to you, Judal."

"I don't know," Judal said after a while, forcing a steady tone. "I don't know why."

"What did they say?" Asked Kougyoku gently. "Please tell us, Judal."

Judal stared at her for a moment, studied the tears brimming in her eyes, the quiver of her lips, and felt as though he was to blame for it. He was reminded of the night when he lay sick in bed and she had tended to him and warned him of this, and he didn't listen. He heaved a shaky sigh.

"They don't want me anymore," he said in a small voice, missing the widening of Kouen's eyes. "She-They said that I'm disobedient and useless. I'm as good as dead to them." As the words dawned on him, he realized just what that meant. There was no place for him here, not anymore. He would be replaced, for sure, left for dead probably, or maybe they'd just finish the job while he lay here half-dead. It didn't matter either way.

"But why?" Kougyoku asked, incredulous. "After all those years? After all you did for them? How could they just-"

"It's not like they ever cared about me!" Judal snapped, and quieted at the sharpness of his own voice. "I kept... sticking my nose in places I shouldn't have. I think someone might have mentioned white rukh," he added after a moment of thought. Memories blurred together and Judal could barely distinguish dream from reality. But he had known for quite a while that his rukh had grown peculiar in terms of color; there was almost more white than black, now, and he couldn't seem to understand why.

Kouen's brow creased. "But you've been in depravity since you were a child, haven't you?"

"Sure, I don't know. I don't remember a lot from back then."

Kouen stood from where he knelt at the foot of the bed, features hardening. "That's what they used you for, the black rukh. If you don't have it anymore-"

"Yeah," Judal grumbled and looked away.

The man was silent for a moment, looking intently at Judal, who felt as though he might shatter under the glare. Kouen turned to Kougyoku.

"Kou is no longer safe for Judal."

Kougyoku's eyes grew wide. "What do you mean, brother?"

"Yeah, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Judal sat up quickly, wincing at the sudden shooting pain in his stomach. Kougyoku urged him to lay down again, and there wasn't much he could do to protest.

Kouen looked away. "If you're here and Gyokuen doesn't want you, she will make sure that you're gone. Regardless of the means. Until things here have calmed down, you're going to have to leave Kou indefinitely."

Judal was shaking. He knew that Kouen was right, but even so, he had nowhere to go. He was injured and powerless in his current state, he hadn't even a wand. No one would protect him at a time like this, he had no foreign allies. Judal was essentially banished. He may as well have been dead.

"Don't worry, Judal," Kougyoku said, resting her hand on his shoulder, though the paleness in her face was not reassuring. "We'll figure something out."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Judal said and closed his eyes, sinking into the pillows as he shrugged her hand off. "I don't want to think about this."

"Judal..."

"Come, Kougyoku," said Kouen, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Judal needs his rest."

Kougyoku looked at Judal and wished that she could find some semblance of peace in his features, but she couldn't. He was tense and unusually pale, brows drawn together in a frown, heaving deep breaths. He could have died. It had taken him three days to wake up, and even now, he was barely alive. Kougyoku's chest tightened and she bit her lip, but forced a nod. "Alright."

She tore her gaze away from his sleeping form and slipped from the room after her brother. Once the door had fallen shut, Kouen turned to look at her.

"You're close with him, aren't you?"

Kougyoku nodded. "Yeah. We were-we are close."

"Has he mentioned any allies? Anyone who would grant him asylum?"

Her mind instantly went to Sinbad. Kougyoku easily recalled the glow in Judal's eyes when he spoke of the King, the laughter in his voice as he rambled about what the Idiot King had done this time. But she hesitated in revealing that; Judal had been off to visit Sinbad just before she'd found him unconscious and half dead, splattered with blood and semen. Kougyoku had to wonder if Sinbad had anything to do with Judal's current state, and sighed.

"There was one."

"Who?"

She tried not to cringe. "Sinbad."

It took the man a moment to gather his thoughts well enough to reply, and even then could only stare. "The King of Sindria?"

"Yes."

"The man we are at war with?

Kougyoku swallowed. "Well, yes... That's him."

Kouen sighed, reaching up a hand to massage his temple. "This is the same man that Judal declared war to, isn't he?"

"Judal isn't very good at talking about his feelings," Kougyoku explained. "But he likes Sinbad. I don't know if he'll want Sinbad to see him like this, but..." She sighed and wrung her hands together with worry. "I don't think Sinbad will turn him away."

He nodded slowly, mulling over her words. "If you think that is what's best for him, then I trust your judgment."

"Me!?" She squeaked, "You can't put his life in my hands! What if he gets worse?"

"You know Judal best," Kouen began, "so I assume that you'd know what's best for him."

"But why does he have to leave?" Kougyoku asked softly. "He could just stay out of the Empress' way, couldn't he?"

Kouen shook his head. "I saw that look in his eyes when I tried to touch him," he started, perhaps gentler than before. "That boy has seen things no one should ever have to, and it would be too cruel to ask him to stay and relive that trauma. I don't know how he's managed this long as it is."

She sighed slowly. "You... You're right."

"He'll be alright, Kougyoku. We can bring him back later, when there isn't any threat to him here. I assure you."

Kougyoku nodded quickly and sniffled. This was best for Judal, she told herself. This was the only way to protect him. "Then it's settled. I'll bring Judal to Sindria tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was a little heavy in terms of content. This is probably as heavy as it's ever going to get so the story will mostly be fluff and gentle hurt/comfort from here on out. If there are any warnings for a particular chapter, they will be listed accordingly.
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A lot of bad things have happened to Judal so far but things will start to get better for him soon! I promise! This is all just to set up the rest of the fic and I love him so much my true otp is Judal x Happiness so it will come I promise
> 
> This chapter is a little slower and more dialogue heavy, but I think it was important. I hope it's not too boring; things should get more interesting after this.
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Time dragged on, and Sinbad felt as though he were losing his mind.

How could it have only been three days? It felt like an eternity since Sinbad had last seen Judal, had captured those passionate scarlet eyes with his even amber gaze. If he didn't hear something soon, anything, Sinbad didn't think he could bear it. When Ja'far came into his office with fire in the depths of his obsidian eyes, Sinbad didn't bother to ask what was wrong.

"I know I've been slacking," Sinbad grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You don't need to tell me."

"This isn't about that."

"Then what is it?"

Ja'far took a deep breath. "It's Kou," he said, and Sinbad froze. "They've sent a few of their delegates. And Judal."

Sinbad was out of his seat within seconds, and Ja'far didn't have the heart to stop him.

* * *

"How could you lie to me like this?" Judal howled, eyes blazing as he set his glare upon Kougyoku. "If I'd known you were bringing me to this awful place, I never would have let you take me!"

When Kougyoku had come to him in the night and said that they were leaving Kou, Judal was thinking more "private island" than "source of his constant anxiety." She had advised him to get some rest while they flew over the land, and Judal thought nothing of it, as being asleep hurt far less than being awake. But when he woke up in the Sindrian palace, a place that he had grown to know far too well, Judal was anything but pleased.

"Judal, please relax," she fretted from where she sat beside him on the sofa. "It's not good for you to get so upset, think of your health!" The generals had opted to let them wait for the King's word from an isolated room, decorated with intricate tapestries and satin pillows scattered across the floor. On a normal occasion, Judal would much have preferred the pillows to any functional seat, but as it was he could barely stand or sit up straight without crumbling beneath his own weight, so this was simpler. And, either way, Kougyoku wouldn't let him stray from her side.

"I don't need you treating me like another one of your dolls," he spat and shrugged her hand away. "I'm fine. But you never should have brought me here." This was the last thing that Judal had wanted, to be back here, right back to the place he was trying to forget. He couldn't stand the shame of Sinbad seeing him here. Judal was sure Sinbad would think of him as a naive and desperate child who couldn't grasp when he wasn't wanted. Judal couldn't face that, not today.

Kouen breathed a deep sigh from where he sat beside them. "But you're on good terms with Sinbad, aren't you?

Judal snorted. "That's a real stretch."

"What happened?" Kougyoku asked, drawing her brows together in a frown. Something vaguely sinister flashed in her eyes and she clenched her fists. "He didn't-?"

"No, no," Judal shook his head. "It wasn't him."

"Then what is it?" asked Kouen, with something like concern creeping into his voice. Kouen was a good man, and he'd certainly be just as good a king, but he was always so hardened and stoic. Judal rarely saw him express anything akin to worry; if he wasn't so exhausted, Judal might've been touched. "Has he hurt you?"

That was a valid question, and yet Judal couldn't seem to find an answer within himself. Sinbad had never laid a hand on him, not in the sort of way that perpetuated ill intentions. That was not the pain Sinbad brought, though. This pain burned slowly, from the inside out, the sort of pain that brought tears instead of bandages, but either way, Judal now had both.

"Not really," Judal said after a while. "It wasn't really his fault."

"Then what happened?" Kougyoku asked again. "The way you talked about Sinbad… Something must've changed, if you're like this now."

Judal took a deep breath. "It's…nothing, really. I went to see him, and I just…walked in on something I shouldn't have."

"A woman?" asked Kouen, and Kougyoku nearly winced at the insensitivity.

"Yeah," Judal grumbled in response. "That."

Kougyoku's heart ached. "Oh, Judal… I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen, I had no idea…"

"So this was your idea, Hag?" Judal was glaring, but that look had lost its strength. The fire in his eyes was softer now, dimmer, as though it had been doused but not completely. His glare was weak and tired, and almost pitiful. Kougyoku would have preferred that look a thousand times over this.

Kougyoku tried to rest a hand on his shoulder, but he winced when her finger brushed a dark bruise. Her eyes softened. "I'm so sorry, Judal," she started. "If I had known..."

"Its fine," Judal whispered, wringing his hands together. "I don't care." He couldn't bear to think what Sinbad would say, seeing him like this. Judal didn't want to see the look on his face as he laid eyes upon Judal's damaged body. Judal didn't want Sinbad to see the bandages he hadn't dared to peek beneath, running under his choli to his collarbone and more riding at his hips. He was covered in bruises and thin scratches, particularly on his exposed midriff, now far from the flawless porcelain skin of which he was always so proud.

In the haste to leave undiscovered, Judal hadn't the time to clean himself up as he often liked to do for Sinbad, or even take a bath. Traces of dirt and dried blood marred his skin, and his hair was in absolute ruin; his long, silky black hair that was always so soft and well cared-for had been rendered a tangled, filthy mess. Judal knew he looked awful.

Sinbad would think he was a horror, and that was something Judal could never bear to face.

* * *

"Has he said anything?" Sinbad asked as Ja'far struggled to match his pace.

"Not that I am aware," Ja'far answered plainly. "I haven't seen them yet myself."

No response came from Sinbad. He was too obsessed with the idea of seeing Judal again, he didn't care whether Judal was furious or disgusted at just his very thought. All Sinbad wanted was to see him. He didn't care of the circumstances or the repercussions he might face. All Sinbad wanted was to see Judal again, no matter the cost.

He was sure that it wouldn't matter why Judal was here, everything could be solved. Though, when Sinbad finally opened the door, his heart stopped.

Judal wouldn't look at him. He was breathing hard and staring into his lap, and it was indiscernible whether that was due to his personal discomfort or the bandages tinted faintly with the red hue of blood. Judal had never looked quite so fragile, as though he were a delicate porcelain figure that might shatter without proper care. He was so frail, even thinner than he most often appeared, in a way that implied abuse rather than illness. Judal sat in a delicate way, as to avoid the strain on certain injuries that were obviously there, though hidden by the dark fabric of his leg dress.

Somehow, Sinbad found it was hard to breathe. Kougyoku's glare was on him; he found it odd that a face so benevolent could harden like ice, but he would be the last to blame her. Sinbad felt something rise within his chest, the gnawing of guilt or worry and shame, and wished that Judal would just look at him.

"King Sinbad," said Kouen, standing to greet him with a dip of the head, but he was quite obviously not in the mood for formalities. His features were unreadable, but there was a certain rigidity to his stance as though he were trying very hard to restrain himself. "I understand that this must be rather unanticipated, but there are certain matters that we would like to discuss with you."

"I…can see that." Sinbad felt numb. His legs moved on their own as he took a seat on the sofa across from the three. Ja'far was right beside him, and Kouen sat down in turn. This was not the proper behavior of a king, to stare dumbly at Judal without even addressing the room. Judal had never looked like this. He had always taken such good care of himself, always with his kohl carefully applied, his unmarred skin and his shining hair. He was no less pretty now, truly, but for the light gone from his eyes, dull and lusterless as he kept his gaze low. Judal's cheeks burned hot with shame, and Sinbad had so many things he wanted to say, but nothing that he could.

It was Ja'far who broke the silence when Sinbad could not. "What matters have you come to discuss, Prince Kouen?"

"Is that not obvious?" Kougyoku seethed, but the mauve of her eyes was concentrated on Sinbad alone. He half expected her to draw the pin from her hair and turn on him, right there, but something was restraining her.

Kouen, who might once have berated her for the impudent remark, ignored the comment and went on. "Circumstances have changed since you last saw Judal."

"I can tell," Sinbad said gently, keeping his gaze on Judal. The answer made him draw in on himself, lips tightening with humiliation. He leaned closer, observant and almost wounded at the way Judal drew back with a tremble to his shoulders. "What's happened to you, Judal?"

"Why should you care?" he asked in a small, bitter voice, the first words he had managed. "You do the same to your women, don't you?"

Sinbad's features contorted with horror and his eyes grew wide. Every coherent thought within him instantly dissipated; there was nothing left but blind rage. Someone had touched Judal, had hurt him, and had done the unimaginable to him. "Judal," Sinbad tried and outstretched a hand, but Judal shank back against the sofa and cringed.

"Don't touch me," he whispered, acid lacing every word. Judal looked at him, the first time he had dared to lock eyes with Sinbad, and his heart caught in his throat. That look held so much pain, far too much. And then there were those misty eyes, the tears welling in a place they should never have been, clouding the clear scarlet of his irises. Sinbad realized how he must have looked then, rage twisting his countenance as he reached out a hand—how could he have expected Judal to do anything else?

"Please," Judal murmured again, quieter this time as he looked away. _"Don't."_

Never once had Judal begged for anything in his life. Sinbad didn't think he had it in him. Those two words pierced his heart like nothing else could, and Sinbad sat back, awestruck and speechless. This couldn't have happened, not to Judal. Sinbad couldn't have let this happen.

What would have happened, he wondered, had he not brought a woman to his room, had he been alone with Judal instead, just the two of them. Sinbad could have been kind to Judal. He could have helped him; he could have done _something_ to avoid this, _anything_ but this. Sinbad felt bile rising in his throat as the realization truly dawned on him, that what happened to Judal was entirely his fault.

"As you can tell," Kouen continued as Sinbad stared dumbly ahead. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak; nothing made sense. "The past few days have been hard on our magi."

"What happened to him?" Ja'far spoke up when Sinbad could not, a deed for which Sinbad was grateful.

Kouen sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He cast a questioning look over to Judal, who answered with a slow nod. "Al-Thamen has… decided to operate without a magi, from this point forward. Perhaps it would be better for Judal to tell you the rest, when he is ready."

Sinbad mulled this over within himself. For what good reason could that vile organization discard their most valuable tool, their greatest asset? This could not be feigned, for Judal was not nearly so good an actor, but why, then, would Judal be here before him, cast out by the organization he'd called home?

"How long do you plan to stay in Sindria?" Ja'far asked.

"That is what we are here to discuss."

Across from them, Judal cringed and Kougyoku took his hand, a comforting gesture into which he hesitantly relaxed. There was a part of Sinbad that longed to take Judal by the other hand, to soothe him and to comfort him, but as he sat opposing the magi, it was Sinbad who felt like the threat.

"As you can probably gather," Kouen went on, "Kou is no longer a safe place for Judal."

This time, it was Ja'far who fell silent at his side. "I agree," said Sinbad, and he could feel the coldness of Ja'far's glare on him, but decided to ignore that for now.

"Until matters in the Kou Empire are resolved," said the prince, "we would like to ask that you grant our magi Sindria's protection. At least for the time being."

"You are requesting asylum?" Ja'far asked from beside him, with sharpness to his tone. "And we are just to accept that, from an enemy state?"

 _"Ja'far."_ Ja'far's intuition was often a blessing, but Sinbad couldn't help but feel appalled. Was Ja'far blind, now? Could he not see the damage before his eyes? There were many things that could be feigned, Sinbad knew, but the look in Judal's eyes was raw and desperate and _screaming_. In that single moment, Sinbad knew that he could not say no. When Judal looked at him with those eyes, there was nothing Sinbad could possibly think to do to deny him. Sinbad would go to the ends of the earth if Judal had asked, but only if it was with those eyes.

"That is what I would hope," Kouen answered, calm and unbothered. Were he not so focused on Judal, Sinbad might have admired that level-headedness; it was a good trait for a future king. But that wasn't important, not now.

"Please." It was Kougyoku who spoke this time, voice strained—but whether it was from anger or tears, Sinbad couldn't quite tell. "I know this must seem suspicious. You have no reason to trust us, but we have no reason to trust you, _King Sinbad_. We are desperate." Her voice was acidic and she held her head high. This was not that same blushing mess Sinbad had met in Balbadd; this woman was strong, proud, and absolutely furious. Sinbad respected that.

"Very well," Sinbad said, turning his attentions to Judal. "And what of you, Judal?" He asked, voice low and quiet but gentler this time, as though the intensity of the voice might shatter him. "Do you want to stay here?"

Judal's chest rose and fell as he heaved a deep breath. His eyes slipped shut for but a moment, and when they opened again they were on Sinbad. They were dull now, still, but perhaps there was a sliver of that intensity Sinbad fancied so.

"That depends," Judal murmured, low and soft, and there was something almost intimate about the way the syllables rolled off of his tongue. "Will you have me?"

"Yes," Sinbad answered, before he even knew that he'd spoken. "Of course. You are always welcome here, Judal."

_"Sin!"_

Judal snorted. "Even when you're busy?"

Sinbad forced a wry smile. "Especially when I am busy."

Judal looked at Sinbad as Ja'far carefully concealed his seething beside him. He considered the words carefully; Sinbad could see the wheels turning, and then his lips parted, chapped but still the same familiar color of pink flower petals.

"Then I will stay."

At the answer, Kougyoku exhaled in relief, and even Kouen's rigid shoulders seemed to loosen and settle. Judal wasn't smiling, but there was something softer in his eyes, and he had unfurled from his withdrawn position just faintly so. It still hurt Sinbad to see him this way, but it was a start. It was something, and Sinbad knew now as much as he ever did that there was something in Judal worth saving.

He hadn't quite realized what he had said, not yet, but the only thing that mattered was Judal's safety. Sinbad hardly cared if it took the promise of protection and care to see that smile again. If this was what it took, then that was alright with Sinbad.

"Sin," Ja'far hissed again, with subtlety this time. "May I have a word with you? _Alone?"_

Sinbad nodded and rose to his feet, and he didn't miss the unsureness in Judal as he rose to his full height. Sinbad had never imagined that Judal might fear him; knowing what he did about the magi, it just wasn't realistic. But this Judal was so different from the one he'd seen three nights ago, the one that had laughed alongside him at the festival. As he excused himself, Sinbad silently vowed that he would do anything to see Judal smile again.

"What's the matter?" He asked Ja'far once they exited the room and the door slipped shut behind them.

Ja'far gave him a look. "You cannot  _seriously_ be considering this, Sin."

Sinbad blanched. "What do you mean? I already told him yes."

"You…" Ja'far groaned and made a noise of frustration. "You know that magi is dangerous! You can't keep indulging him just because you think that he's pretty!"

"Keep your voice down," Sinbad urged, and Ja'far couldn't help but roll his eyes. "And, in any case, you think so too."

"Well," grumbled Ja'far, voice hushed. "That is beside the point."

Sinbad sighed. "I know that you are only looking out for me and for Sindria, but you had to have seen him. I've never seen Judal look like that."

"How do we know this isn't another one of his schemes? How are we supposed to buy that?"

"I don't know, Ja'far," Sinbad sighed, "but if I was such a skeptic of every person who came to me over the years, could I have ever taken you in?"

Ja'far was silent for a moment, and Sinbad knew he had won. "Our past with Judal hasn't been…great—"

"Certainly not," Ja'far agreed."

"—but right now, he needs us. What sort of king would I be if I turned him away?"

The advisor seemed exhausted. "One wrong move, Sinbad—"

"I know," he sighed. "So are we in agreement?"

"Well, I _guess_."

"Good." Sinbad risked a smile. "You won't regret this."

"You say that now," Ja'far sighed as he followed Sinbad back into the chamber. Sinbad knew that his advisor wasn't completely convinced, but that was alright. Judal would just have to prove himself then, not only to Ja'far, but to the other seven generals as well. The thought tugged at Sinbad's heart—if Judal was afraid of him, then how would he possibly react to Hinahoho or Masrur, or even Drakon?

"Does your offer still stand?" Kouen asked as they reentered.

"Of course. I am a man of my word," said Sinbad as he stood before them. He didn't have to look to catch Ja'far rolling his eyes. "Will you be staying as well?"

Kouen shook his head. "Things in the Kou Empire are very…unstable, as it is. Gyokuen's ascension has made things even more complicated. I already had my suspicions, but from what Judal has said, I now know that the Empire is not in the right hands. If Al-Thamen can so badly mistreat one of their own, then they have no business controlling one of the world's most powerful nations. I'll be returning shortly to inform my brothers of this and to see what can be done."

"Very well," said Sinbad. "And the princess?"

"I can speak for myself," replied Kougyoku sharply. "I have business back in Kou as well. But I will return in two weeks time to assess how you've been treating my dear Judal, and you should hope that I am satisfied."

With her demure presence, it was not difficult to forget Kougyoku's innate lethality. Sinbad was silently reminded that there was a reason she had not been married off as her sisters had before her, and he vowed never again to let her terrifying power slip his mind. "Do not worry, princess Kougyoku. Your magi will be in good hands, that I can assure you."

"I hope so."

Sinbad tried to smile. "Are you feeling alright, Judal?" he asked. "I'll bring you to the healers if you'd like. Our court magician is quite skilled in the healing arts." Perhaps Yamuraiha could be of some comfort to him. Both specialized in blue magic, and aside from that, she was a woman. In this state, Judal seemed more relaxed in the presence of a feminine influence, at least Sinbad hoped so.

"Alright," said Judal, in a manner that was much too compliant to be real. But then he gripped the seat of the chair and stood on trembling legs, and it was though his familiar stubbornness had never left.

"Let me help you, Judal," said Kouen, setting a hand on Judal's bandaged shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

"I'm fine."

Kougyoku was already tense. "Judal, please, you're hurt—"

"I said I'm fine! I'm not a child!"

Judal's eyes flashed and Sinbad almost admired the color, but his concern far outweighed any sort of admiration he may have felt. Judal pushed past both her and Kouen, but his gait was wobbly and unsure, and there was a sudden ache in Sinbad's heart.

When Judal's knee gave out and he stumbled forward with a cry, Sinbad was there, easily welcoming Judal into his embrace when he fell against him. And for a single moment Sinbad was reminded of that night at the festival when Judal was pulled into his arms; this was the same figure, the same body against his, but those eyes had been bright and exuberant, and these were only filled with shame.

Judal remained there for a second, silent and numb, but then his features twisted with deep humiliation and he opened his mouth to say something, but Sinbad was there first.

"It's alright, Judal," he murmured, even though it wasn't. "I'm here."

Judal looked up with horror, and for once he really studied the gold of Sinbad's aureate eyes, and he searched desperately for something cruel or something ill-willed, but in those eyes, in that face, there was nothing. In Sinbad, there was only warmth and light and with it came this strange, awful feeling that he didn't think he could bear.

This couldn't have been real, but it was, so Judal fell against Sinbad's chest and let the tears come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earlier I said that my next update would be late because I was sad about the new magi chapter, but hurricane Matthew is about to hit me and I'm gonna be out of school for 3 days so I'm bored as shit lmao it'll probably be on time :^) Unless it hits before I finish then... lmao!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: hi everyone i am v sorry for the long wait i got hit by a hurricane but im back!
> 
> a lot of this was written in sprints at 1am so im not sure if its my best lmao. i literally did not proofread this oops. also i've been thinking of changing the title bc melt was more of a working title anyway but.. idk
> 
> feedback is much appreciated!

Arguably, the hardest thing about coming to Sindria was the inevitable knowledge that Kougyoku and Kouen would have to leave. In their final moments in Sindria, Kouen had rested his hand on Judal's shoulder and told him to be safe, and Kougyoku's voice was choked with tears as she insisted they'd come back for him. Judal had held himself together reasonably well until Kougyoku planted a gentle kiss to the top of his head along with her goodbyes, and Judal had to remind himself that he'd cried enough for one day.

"Don't worry," began Sinbad, but it was a challenge not to with the tension in the air. Kouen and Kougyoku were gone now, so Judal was left to fend for himself. He had never felt so anxious in his life, except perhaps when he was with Gyokuen. Judal tried to shut out the thought. "Yamuraiha is a good healer. You've met her before, haven't you?"

Judal shook his head. He had heard of her before, he'd felt her barrier whenever he crossed into Sindrian territory, but he'd never actually met the woman. "I haven't," he said, struggling to walk even with Sinbad's aid.

Sinbad had offered to carry him, of course, but Judal vehemently declined. Injured though he was, Judal was not about to be made into some helpless damsel who could not even take a step for himself. That, on top of everything else, would be far too humiliating. Just the fact that he still needed Sinbad for support was something Judal was too ashamed to admit.

"Well, rest assured. You'll be in good hands," said Sinbad. "And she's a water magician, just like you." Still, Judal could not possibly imagine that he would be in good hands in Sindria, of all places. This was by far the last place he wanted to be, especially after what happened the last time he'd seen Sinbad. Judal couldn't find it in himself to blame Kougyoku for the thought, though, because this was obviously not her fault. Judal had brought this upon himself with the way he had behaved around Sinbad, letting his feelings get the better of him in a way he never had before. For once, Judal couldn't seem to blame anyone but himself.

Silently, Judal had to wonder if that woman he saw that night had filled any position in Sinbad's life, and quickly reminded himself that he was only being paranoid. Sinbad could not stand commitment if his life depended on it. Oddly enough, that didn't make him feel much better.

"I guess it can't hurt to try," Judal muttered. Really, nothing could hurt much more than this.

Sinbad helped him into Yamuraiha's chambers, and the woman came expectantly to greet them, seeming almost frustrated at the unannounced entrance, but the second she laid eyes on Judal, her expression fell.

"Goodness, Sinbad..." Judal knew he must've been quite a sight, clutching onto Sinbad for dear life, still stained with blood and bandages, a shell of what he used to be. "What happened?"

When Judal said nothing, Sinbad shook his head. "That… isn't important. Can you see to him, Yamuraiha?"

After only the barest moment of hesitation, Yamuraiha nodded. "Of course. Bring him here."

Sinbad helped Judal forward to a small cot-surely not the extravagant bedchambers of Sindria's court magician. Judal reasoned that she must have slept elsewhere and used this room for medicinal purposes only.

"Can you go and bring me some water?" She asked a pair of servants nearby, who immediately went to obey. With a sigh, Yamuraiha turned to him. "You're Judal, aren't you? The Kou Empire's magi?"

"I used to be."

To his surprise, her features held no judgment as she nodded in understanding. "Alright. Let's have a look at you, then."

Yamuraiha was silent for a while, looking at him like this, and for that Judal was grateful. He was not feeling especially chatty to begin with, but he never really was. She was careful as she attended him, and though he couldn't help but flinch as her touch grazed the sore places, he supposed it could have been worse.

"What hurts the most?"

It took Judal a moment to gather a response. "I… my chest and shoulders," he lied, and though she seemed concerned and almost skeptical at the answer, she attended to him anyways.

Judal was carefully stripped of his choli and bandages, and once the servants brought the water, Yamuraiha sent it spiraling over his most pressing wounds. He was almost surprised at how few questions she asked, but he figured that she could tell as much as he didn't want anyone to know. The technique of the water almost reminded Judal of the way Kougyoku's attendant, Koubun Ka had healed him, and then the thought of home only made him feel worse again.

He tried to focus on the way the water cleansed the fresh wounds and washed over the old scars. The old scarring was not quite so bad as Judal often imagined it to be, only a clean strike across the left side of his collarbone, and once the skin-deep scratches had begun to heal, the evidence that anything recent had happened vanished almost completely. He didn't want Yamuraiha to go any further. As much as it was hurting him, Judal would rather die than let anyone see the lower half of his body, so he bit his lip and tried to ignore the pain.

The worst thing about it was how Sinbad looked at him, standing at a distance so not to interfere, but still watching over Judal in a way that made it seemed like he cared. Had Judal been thinking clearly, he supposed the way he reacted to Sinbad made it seem like he blamed the man, but that wasn't really the issue. Judal was much too ashamed to even look at Sinbad, ashamed for the way he had caused his own undoing, and appalled at the way Sinbad could treat him so kindly even in spite of the way Judal had behaved and all of the things he had done.

Biting his tongue, Judal forced himself to tear away from the concern in Sinbad's eyes, and in that time he hadn't noticed the water recede and Yamuraiha's hand pressed against his bare collarbone.

"When's the last time you've taken off this necklace, Judal?"

"Since I got it put on?" he scoffed. "Al-Thamen put it on me when I was like fourteen. There isn't a clasp or anything, so I couldn't take it off.

"The bracelets too?"

"Yeah," he grumbled. It had seemed innocent at the time, but Judal figured that they needed a way to mark him as one of theirs. This was just the simplest way to go about it.

Yamuraiha did not seem so at ease. "Judal, it is very unsafe to keep something so tight against your body for such a prolonged period of time."

"So?"

"I can sense a lot of tension, especially against your throat. Something like this could cause serious damage and injure your body even further."

The way she said 'further' made Judal want to shudder, but the seed of worry had been planted in his mind and now he could not get around it. Could such a silly thing as this serve to scar him even further than he already was, to damage one of the few parts of his body that remained flawless?

He looked down at his wrists for a moment; at the golden bangles too dull to shine that had grown painfully snug against his arms. Perhaps he just hadn't noticed the tightness of them because no one had brought it up before. It had been so long since Judal had seen the bare skin of his forearms and throat, and he almost didn't want to. But if they could really scar him…

Judal couldn't help but glance at Sinbad, only for a second, and he didn't miss that look of pity. As much as he wished he could be bitter, Judal didn't seem to have the energy anymore.

"Can you take them off, then?"

"I can. It won't hurt," she added.

"Then do it."

"Are you sure, Judal?" Sinbad interjected, and there was that look of pity again as he came closer. "I don't want you to feel forced to do anything—"

"It's fine. I don't care," Judal muttered. He didn't see why Sinbad should give a damn. Maybe things would have been easier if Sinbad had left him for dead instead of treating him like this; Judal could have learned to live with that. But this was something else; he couldn't bear this ache in his chest when Sinbad was at his side, he couldn't live with this humiliation and shame, not here. Judal pretended to ignore Sinbad's faint look of hurt and turned back to Yamuraiha. "Take them off."

Yamuraiha sighed, but didn't intend to create any further tension between the pair. She finessed her wand in her hands—something Judal envied her for—and with an easy wave the gold cracked and fell from his hands like shackles. And then, with another wave, there was a clink as the necklace came undone and landed easily in his lap. Oddly enough, Judal did not feel anything now that they were gone. The gaudy jewelry had been a constant reminder of Al-Thamen, and without it, he didn't feel remorse. He only felt lighter.

It had been so long since Judal had felt soft hair tickling the nape of his neck, since he could wring his wrists in the palms of his hands. It was not hard to forget how such things felt, being with Al-Thamen for so long. And yet Judal had expected his skin to appear soft and unblemished, as it had been when the jewelry was put on. In its place were dark, purple bruises, abrasions that sank deep into the skin in ring-like patterns around his wrists. Judal almost wanted to say something, but when the rest of him was torn to pieces, what difference did a few bruises make?

"Don't worry," she said, noticing his discomfort as he brought a hand up to his throat. "The bruises will be tender for a while, but they'll fade with time."

"What about the other scars?"

She hesitated. "I… I'll see what I can do. You'll have to keep coming back so I can treat you, but I could get a better idea if you'd let me see all of the damage."

Unconsciously, Judal drew his legs closer to himself. It would make sense to show her. It would certainly alleviate a lot of this pain, and still, Judal would rather die than let anyone see his body like this. Though, in any case, Judal ranked his pride higher than he did his shame.

"I'll show you if you tell him to go."

Yamuraiha seemed to understand, but Sinbad wasn't as quick. "Judal, there's nothing to be ashamed of…"

Judal wouldn't look at him, so obviously there was. Sinbad conceded with a sigh.

"I'll be waiting outside."

When the door closed and Sinbad was gone, Judal let out a deep breath. Perhaps it was impudent to order around a king, particularly one who had shown him such kindness, but Judal found it rather hard to care.

"Go on, Judal," she began, as though speaking to a frightened animal. He glowered at her, and very seriously considered walking out altogether, but that was more than difficult when he could barely take a step.

When Judal stripped off the rest of his clothing, he had expected some sort of reaction out of her, and yet there was nothing. Even as she came forward and unwound the bandages, and Judal himself couldn't help but cringe, her features were oddly free of judgment. Maybe there was a trace of pity in that look, but that was nothing compared to Sinbad.

Up until then, Judal had been too scared to look at himself, but now that he could finally see the damage, numbness overtook him. There was too much red, sprawled all over his hips and between his legs. Abrasions were too thick across his inner thighs, coloring all over faded scars in the same places.

He hissed as the water came again, and memories came flooding back to Judal all over again. Just to think of the hands too rough against him, the bodies pressed up against him; it was too much. Judal almost thought that he was going to be sick as he tasted the bile on his tongue, but he had seen this before, he had done this before, and he would live through it as he always did. It was always easier to look away.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?" said Judal, and the comment had meant to sound catty but came out too soft to seem threatening.

"You don't seem like you'd want to answer any questions." She was right.

Judal gave a grunt of affirmation. "So, can you do anything?" he asked as the water receded. The bleeding had stopped and the initial stinging had gone away, but the damage was still there, ugly as ever. The fine scratches to his collarbone were nothing compared to this; the permanent reminder of what he had been to them, and what he would always be.

"I… I don't know," she admitted finally, and Judal's stomach sank. "I mean, there are definitely things that I can do. But I don't know if they will ever fade entirely, and you'll have to come back a lot."

Judal's mind went back to Sinbad, and back to the beautiful woman with the flawless skin who was draped all over him. He felt a tightening and bitterness in his chest, not quite with envy as much as sorrow, knowing he could never be that.

"I'll come back as often as I need to."

Yamuraiha showed him a sad smile, and then stepped back to allow him space. "You can put your clothes on, now. I think we're done for today."

He felt like he should thank her for what she had done, but the words just didn't feel right no matter how he tried to say it. Judal was silent as he got dressed again, slipping his choli over his head, and his legs weren't quite as sore when he slid his pants back up to his waist. He would give anything to be able to walk for himself again.

"And Judal?"

He turned to look at her, standing at the door, ready to allow Sinbad back in again. Judal braced himself. "What?"

"You don't have to come here just for healing." She said it in a way that made it seem like they were friends, only not quite that. Acquaintances, perhaps. He appreciated it either way, and nodded slowly in response.

Sinbad came back in then, and if Judal were not so embarrassed by the whole situation he might have been touched that the man had waited for him all of this time. Surely it hadn't been that long, but still. Judal figured a man of such importance wouldn't waste any unnecessary time with a crippled magi.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, coming immediately to Judal, who nodded.

"I guess."

"Good." Sinbad's lips curled upward just faintly in that warm, comforting way Judal had always seen from a distance but never head-on, and his eyes were just inexplicably soft enough to make Judal's chest ache. Had this been any other time, any other scenario, Judal would have been on him in a second. But now, even as Sinbad looked so kindly at him, in the way that Judal had always longed for him to do, it was all he could do not to look away.

"Come, then. Can you walk? I've had the servants prepare a room for you." Sinbad outstretched a hand, as though worried that Judal could not stand on his own. After the treatment, Judal was sure that he could, but he placed tentative fingers in Sinbad's hand anyways and latched onto his grip as he stood on his own two feet. There was still a limp in his gait, but this was enough. It was a sensation that had been dearly missed.

"Thank you again, Yamuraiha," Sinbad said with an easy smile.

"I didn't mind," the magician insisted, even though Judal was sure he had been anything but a pleasure. He looked at her again, unsure of what to say, but decided silence was the best answer as he turned to leave, with Sinbad.

"Oh, Judal, wait!"

Judal turned to her, almost nervous at the urgency of her exclamation. "What is it?"

"Ah, nothing…it's just your hair—"

"What?" Ah. He had almost forgotten about that. Judal snaked a sore hand behind his head and tugged his braid over his shoulder, recalling its state of ruin. He ran his thumb gently over a section of the plait. "What about it?"

"Shouldn't you do something with it?"

Maybe the way color drained from Judal's face was too telling, because Sinbad was quick to come to his aid. "Don't worry, I can help you with it," he assured, and Judal was too disoriented to do anything but dumbly nod.

As they turned down the hall, Yamuraiha couldn't help but sigh. She could have fixed it twice as easily with a single swirl of her wand, but perhaps they needed the time alone.

* * *

It wasn't like Judal fantasized about the Sindrian baths—well, not often, at least. Maybe he had wondered, at a time, what Sinbad's bathroom might look like, and at the real sight of it he was not disappointed. Sinbad's private quarters were quite like what one would expect of a king, splendid and lavish, with intricate archways and a plethora of hanging lanterns. The bathtub was large and in the center of it all, with a sort of curtained canopy that made it feel intimate somehow. Had it been any other time, Judal would have been thrilled. He wished that his first visit here was not so tainted.

"Shouldn't one of your servants be doing this?" Judal tried not to scoff. It was below a king to care for some filthy man he'd taken in grudgingly; an enemy of all people. Judal just wanted to sleep.

"No…No, I don't mind," Sinbad assured, in a way that was hardly convincing. "It's really no trouble."

"Hm." Judal was too tired to argue. He followed Sinbad to the tub, which had already been filled—a feat he wasn't sure how Sinbad had accomplished in such a limited time. "I'm not going to strip for you."

"I didn't mean for that. Just lay your head down here, and I'll help you."

Judal did not really want to accept kindness out of guilt, because that was all this was. His eyes were narrowed as he considered the words, but when he could think of no better options, Judal laid his head against the porcelain, almost wincing at the coldness against his tender neck.

Judal's hair, gleaming faintly with the deepest shade of red, slipped into the warm water in an almost serpentine fashion. Sinbad was trying hard not to make him uncomfortable, but that was a challenge when even the smallest thing could evoke a major reaction from the battered magi. As Judal's braid dipped into the tub, thin streams of red crept into the clear water, and Sinbad didn't want to have to think about where it came from.

"…is it bad?" Judal asked hesitantly.

No part of Judal ever really looked bad. But considering the amount of care he usually put into his appearance, it was rather unfortunate to see his hair in such a sorry state.

"No, not really."

Judal didn't seem quite convinced, and wrung his hands together in a nervous manner. His wrists looked so slender without the bangles, almost delicate, and Sinbad wondered how someone so lithe and fragile could ever seem so threatening.

"You won't cut it, will you?"

"Of course not." Sinbad was almost worried at the question. Did Al-Thamen have such little respect for their magi that he would think to ask such a thing in a vulnerable state?

Sinbad shook his head and unraveled the braid, slow and careful, making a sincere effort not to snag on the abundance of knots and tangles. Judal's eyes had slipped shut, whether that was due to tension or peace, but at least he seemed not to be suffering as much. Sinbad was sure that he was not doing a great job at this, and certain that Judal would be screaming were he not so stressed. But Judal had not once complained nor put up any sort of fight under Sinbad's care, and that was hardly reassuring.

At one point, it seemed as though he tugged too hard on a sensitive strand, and he didn't miss how Judal hissed and cringed at the touch. "I'm sorry," Sinbad said quickly, and the guilt rose even higher in his throat, but Judal's features had relaxed again without so much as a murmur of acknowledgment.

"…its fine," he muttered eventually.

Once the braid had come undone completely, Judal's expanse of hair seemed to fill the whole tub, clouding the water like ink. It was a pretty sight like this, all sleek and shining under the clear liquid. Sinbad recalled vaguely that this was not a time to admire Judal and went back to washing his hair, lathering the strands in something that smelled of lavender and jasmine.

"Have you ever cut your hair, Judal?" Sinbad asked; something that he'd wondered for a while.

"No," said Judal after a moment. "I like it this way."

"Of course," he agreed, and Judal opened his eyes for a second only to close them once again. Judal did not seem relaxed, exactly, but the tenseness had lifted from his shoulders and he lay draped across the edge of the basin as eased as one could be in his situation. Sinbad supposed that Judal had just learned to adapt to this sort of thing, after a while.

It almost pained him to think about, whether this was really the first time, or if Judal had been abused like this in the past. He wouldn't be surprised if it were the latter. Sinbad didn't want to think he was being so kind to Judal out of guilt, it was more like pity—though that was hardly any better. Sinbad couldn't find it in himself to be so harsh with Judal anymore, he was already weak around the magi, but now, after this, Sinbad didn't think he could turn him down.

"I think that's good for now," said Sinbad, and Judal sat up slowly, trying not to wince.

Judal turned and looked at him for a second, searching for something in his features, and then he managed a reluctant, "thanks."

"Let me get you a towel." Really, he was running servants' errands now. Ja'far would have scolded him for lowering himself, a king, to such menial tasks, but if it was for Judal Sinbad couldn't bring himself to mind.

Judal had fallen asleep when he came back. The rigidity in his shoulders had gone completely, and that was how Sinbad knew he wasn't awake.

Judal looked so different like this, with his features free of scorn and his lips soft and untouched, like pink flower petals laid out on porcelain. Careful not to rouse him, Sinbad outstretched a hand to brush back his dark bangs, and watched as Judal squirmed unknowingly into the touch.

Sinbad couldn't bring himself to wake him. He heaved Judal's heavy, soaked hair from the water and toweled it until the strands glistened dry in the low light. Judal was light when he hoisted the magi up into his arms, careful of the most sensitive places. Sinbad carried him to one of the most extravagant rooms in the palace, one that had already been prepared, and he rested Judal gently amongst a nest of pillows and sheets.

Sinbad could not remember a time when he had treated someone so tenderly as this. Perhaps it was just guilt or remorse for the way he had behaved—of which there was no shortage within him. But as he looked upon Judal like this, he couldn't help but feel like that wasn't all.

As Sinbad finally turned on his heel to leave, Judal stirred faintly in sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: not all chapters can be winners ok (i'm rewriting this one soon)
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated!

Perhaps it was very telling that Sinbad's first matter of the day was to go and check on Judal. Not by any written obligation, but by the fact that guilt and worry were deep under his skin, and it was all he could do not to fuss over the magi. It was oddly unlike him.

At the palace's initial creation, Sinbad was strongly against the notion of a queen's chamber. It wasn't as though there would be anyone to fill the bed, with the way Sinbad handled women. With some persuasion, though, he had warmed to the idea, and thus the chamber was built adjacent to his own. Admittedly, Sinbad had counted on never using it, since he wasn't one to ever settle down. But Judal was of too high an importance to be kept in one of the lowly guest rooms, and the extravagant, empty bed seemed to have been waiting for him. Sinbad could already feel Ja'far's disapproval.

It was inevitable that Sinbad would eventually find himself at Judal's bedside. Ordinarily, he could have had the servants watch over him, but Sinbad felt that it was his responsibility to look after this guest. In the early morning, dappled sunlight swathed over Judal's sleeping form as he lay on his side, nestled beneath the sheets. All that could be discerned of him were his nose and closed eyelids, poking out from under the covers, and the long, loose hair that spilled over the sheets. Sinbad could understand now why Judal cared for it so.

A part of him had wanted to say something, but disturbing the boy's peace seemed like a sin. Judal was allowed such little peace, always tense and agitated, and even when he seemed content there was so much chaos to him and never any rest. He deserved this rest more than anyone.

There was a moment of hesitation before Sinbad nudged down the sheets just enough to see the state of his clothing. His chunnari was ripped and torn in places, and his choli was colored with the faintest tinge of red. Certainly he could not just allow Judal to walk around in dirty clothes like this; something had to be done.

Looking at Judal like this, Sinbad was almost uncertain as to whether he could restrain himself. He shook his head and gently, he drew the covers back up to Judal's chin, up over his shoulder so that his tempting lips were hidden once again.

Seemingly, the sun had risen just higher in the time that Sinbad spent watching over Judal. It hadn't seemed like so long, but embarrassingly Sinbad could lose himself like this, in moments like these, when Judal was too tired to scream and fuss and do anything more than just be. Though, he was sure that Judal would be seething if he knew the way Sinbad looked at him now.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Sinbad turned to go attend to other things.

"Sinbad…"

The soft murmur came from Judal's resting figure, and the man in question immediately froze. And then, after a drawn out moment of silence in which Judal did not move at all, nor make any indication of consciousness, Sinbad risked a half-smile. Even as he slept, it seemed as though Judal had as much to worry about as he did when he was awake.

* * *

The sun was high over Sindria when Judal finally began to stir. The sheets were warm and plush around him, and he found himself unusually relaxed at the warm fragrance of the ocean drifting through the air. It was a pleasant thing to wake up to, and Kou was so far from the coast that he was never greeted by the warm, morning air of the sea.

Then, as though waking up from a dream, Judal remembered where he was and his eyes shot open wide. He had almost forgotten that he was thousands of miles from home, from the great Kou Empire, and that he was instead on this pathetic little island in the middle of nowhere. If he had ever spent the night in Sindria, he would have liked it to be for different reasons.

"Where the hell is that stupid king…?" Judal grumbled aloud, fisting his tired eyes. Stupid though he may have been, Sinbad had been unusually generous in the current venue. The whole palace was splendid, but this was nothing short of extravagant. The ceiling was carpeted in fine gold etchings, and intricate tapestries adorned the marble walls and tile. The sheets around him were of the finest silk, perhaps better than the one's he'd had in Kou, and with the sheer curtains draped around the four-poster bed, Judal must have been dreaming.

A rap resonated from the door, and Judal looked up with tired eyes. "Master Judal?" came an obviously female voice. Judal could have laughed; Master Judal? Al-Thamen never called him by name, only "Magi" or "High Priest" or "Oracle." It had all felt so cold and distant then, but this was different. He shrugged it off with a huff, and the servant must've taken it as a cue to enter.

"The High King sends his regards," she said, and Judal forced himself into an upright position. "And he sends this."

Laid out on the bed before him were a set of fresh clothes, perfectly tailored to Judal's size, as though they had been made and ready for him. He was almost disbelieving when he hesitantly gathered the garments into his arms and brought them close to his chest. These, too, were of luxurious fabric, but they were layered in shades of soft, pearly white. And the items were suited perfectly for him; there was enough to hide the scarring, but not so much to hide the rest of him. Judal thought it was an oddly considerate gesture, but he would die before admitting that.

"Is that it?" he managed.

"He says to ask if you need anything else," she said with a smile, and somehow, it didn't seem forced. Judal nodded dumbly as she left, and as he felt the fabric of the new clothes slip between his fingers, he was almost certain that he was dreaming. With the way that things were playing out, maybe Judal had died and gone to heaven—but then again, he had no business being there.

The clothes fit perfectly, but everything on this stupid island was perfect, so Judal was not fazed enough to notice. Judal almost choked when the memory dawned on him; the whole look was almost exactly like what he had worn when he danced with Sinbad. The sheer fabric skimming over his legs, draping over his arms (he hated the uneven coloring where the bracelets used to be), even his hair was left unbound to wash over his shoulders. All that was missing was the veil, which was unfortunate, because now Judal wished he could hide more than ever.

Judal shook his head. That wasn't important, now, what he really needed was to find Sinbad. Not that he was in any particular rush to face the smug bastard, but his stomach churned at the thought of all that was left unsaid between them. If he didn't come by that idiot sooner or later, he was sure that he would suffer from it, as he did in the past. If Judal had learned anything from this ordeal, running from Sinbad was never the best option.

In this maze of a palace, he knew it would be a challenge, but Judal was not about to give anyone the satisfaction of asking for help. Even if he could barely walk on his own, Judal was not so helpless as to ask for directions around this damn castle.

"Is that you, Judal?"

For once, Judal really wished that the voice would be Sinbad's, but this was very clearly not. Judal took a deep breath, and when he finally turned around, he found himself face to face with the deep black eyes of the vizier.

"What, you don't recognize me, freckles?"

Judal had vaguely entertained a hope that the cold glare might brighten to something less hostile. It didn't. "How could I forget? Even if you are dressed like…" Ja'far gave him a onceover, " _that_."

Somewhere deep within himself, Judal was almost ashamed. "This wasn't my idea."

Ja'far was quick to understand, and when he rolled his eyes Judal could have laughed were he not so put-off. Anxiety stirred within him, so defenseless and at the disposal of a man who surely despised him. Judal longed for his wand more than anything now; the songs of the rukh were still there, of course, but without his wand, he could do nothing.

"Dammit, Sin…" he grumbled under his breath. "Why did you leave the queen's chamber, anyways? You can't just walk around like you own the place, though I'm sure you think you d-"

"The _what_?"

Ja'far's glare faltered, like he knew he had made a grave misstep. "Yeah, that room you woke up in? Those are the queen's chambers. You should be grateful that Sin thinks so highly of you—though I should add that I don't."

Perhaps it would have been of great benefit for Judal to actually listen when he was spoken to, but once Ja'far had uttered the word, he suddenly forgot how to think. What business did Sinbad possibly imagine Judal could have in the palace's most extravagant chamber, second only to the King's himself? This was making his head ache just as much as the rest of the rest of him did, but Judal did not think he could wrap his head around such implications.

"…huh," Judal managed finally. "How nice."

"Forget that. Why are you out of your room?"

Judal did not want to go into details, but it didn't seem as though lying would be of any help. He stared evenly at Ja'far, matched at his eye level, and then sighed. Even if Ja'far would rather see Judal dead than ever help him in any way, it couldn't hurt to ask. "I'm looking for that Id—I mean, Sinbad."

Ja'far glowered. "You know, Sinbad does not have all hours of the day to run after you."

"Neither do you, I'll bet."

" _God_ ," the man groaned, "I don't know why Sin puts up with your nonsense. I can't imagine how he stays sane."

"I'm not trying to piss you off, freckles," and at the name, Ja'far was seething again. Judal considered that he should really learn how to better carry himself around the palace, especially around those who easily lorded their power over him. As a guest in Sindria, Judal should have learned to be meek and quaint, but he was finding that increasingly difficult. "I just wanted to talk to him, I can't sit still all day—"

"That's what you're supposed to do," Ja'far hissed. "Sinbad could have thrown you into the dungeons just like any other prisoner, but he didn't and you don't even care. God, he's so blind when it comes to you—I don't know how he can believe all of this nonsense—"

"I didn't lie," Judal spat back, and his hands had begun to tremble just so, and his eyes were perhaps a little too bright. Is that what this had seemed like, like he had made it up? Judal felt raw. "I wouldn't just make that up, not this—"

"But what does it matter what I think? You have him wrapped around your little finger, don't you? Sinbad trusts you, right?" From the very corners of his eyes, Judal saw a warning flash from blades concealed within Ja'far's sleeves, and suddenly his heart was in his throat. "Well, I don't, and I'm not going to let you bring down this Kingdom like you did back then. I won't let you hurt him again."

Judal could not draw his eyes away from those blades, and something like bile rose in his throat as he struggled to breathe again. He took a step back, but there was something behind him that stopped him, something hard, something _human_. Judal wheeled around, chest heaving, and Sinbad was behind him. Judal silently cursed.

"Judal? What's wrong?" Sinbad asked, looking at him with gentle eyes. He rested a heavy hand on Judal's shoulder, bare from the different clothing, and Judal could almost Sinbad's eyes roaming over his body. It was not enough to make him uncomfortable—Judal liked people to look—but maybe it had been enough to snap him out of it. He was breathing again, though his hands were shaking, and Sinbad had to put both hands on his shoulders to steady him.

"Hey, breathe, Judal. Whatever's got you like this, it's alright now."

Judal nodded weakly. "I'm…fine."

"What happened?"

Judal did, for a moment, let his mind wander to the most scathing answer he could have possibly provided, but in the end, decided that it would be of no help for him to act out, especially now. That would only prove Ja'far right. Judal shook his head slowly. "Nothing. I said I'm fine."

"Okay," Sinbad nodded, not quite understanding, but accepting as he always was. He looked over Judal, who was beginning to steady himself, to Ja'far who stood behind him. Judal dared to risk a glance over his shoulder, and there was something almost like remorse in the man's coal black eyes. Sinbad looked to Judal with a sigh. "Let's get you back to your room, now."

Judal should have been relaxed now, as Sinbad guided him away; the imminent threat had receded, and there was no need for him to be so riled up. But still, that fire in Ja'far's eyes was something too familiar, something Judal had grown to know too well—albeit with different intentions. Whereas he might grudgingly come to admit that Ja'far generally meant well, that ferocity had been too reminiscent of other things, things that Judal really did not want to think about.

But more than that, the things Ja'far said had really got Judal thinking. Was he so manipulative that even his own abuse seemed like just another ploy? And, worst of all, could Sinbad somehow consider him a prisoner? Just the thought made him feel sick.

Sinbad led him back to his room, something that Judal was grateful for, since he could not find his way anywhere in this damned maze of a palace.

"Did Ja'far say something to you?"

Judal shrugged. "Yeah, but it's whatever. I don't care."

Sinbad looked like he wanted to say something, and toyed with the idea for a moment, before he sighed and shook his head. "Sit down first. You need to let your legs heal."

Judal contemplated ignoring him altogether, but he was beginning to feel an awful strain in his thighs, so he grudgingly took a seat on the bed. "Happy now?"

Sinbad sighed. "Why were you out of bed?"

"I was looking for the bathroom."

"You have a bathroom right here."

Judal shrugged. "Oops."

"Judal," Sinbad started, seeming tired. "If you wanted to talk to me, you should have just asked someone."

"I did ask," Judal complained, "I asked Ja'far."

"And you thought that Ja'far was your best option?"

"I don't know!" Judal complained. "I… I haven't been thinking straight lately."

"Neither have I," said Sinbad, as Judal tried to keep a neutral expression. It didn't work. "What did you want to ask me?"

That was a good question. Judal suddenly felt very stupid and very unprepared, because really, he hadn't thought this far ahead. He knew that he needed to talk to Sinbad, he knew that there was a lot to be said, but now that he was actually here, he couldn't seem to find the words. He twiddled his thumbs for a moment before he finally managed an answer. "…why the new clothes?"

"Ah," Sinbad's features lit up in recognition. "I didn't want you to have to walk around in dirty clothes. I hope you didn't mind."

"…No," admitted Judal, because he didn't. He had been touched by the gesture, but he would die before he ever admitted that. "I like them."

"I'm glad."

"And how come you put me in the queen's chambers?"

"Ah." If Judal were squinting, he might've found the faintest hint of red on Sinbad's face. "The guest rooms didn't feel right. You deserve better than that." It was Judal's turn to tense. "I can move you, if you want—"

"No, I didn't mind," said Judal, almost too quickly. Sinbad flashed him that lopsided smile, an expression that made Judal feel as though he were going to melt, and then all that forgotten anxiety was suddenly back all over again.

"Do you trust me, Sinbad?"

/Sinbad was silent for a moment, for what felt like too long, and Judal could feel himself tense. "Do I trust you?"

"Yeah."

Sinbad thought again, and Judal could practically see the gears turning within him. "I trust you, to a decent extent. I have seen enough of you to know what your intentions are, and that you don't plan on attacking us any time soon. I think that you are earnest, but I wouldn't trust you with my life as things stand."

"Ah," said Judal, feeling very unsure.

"Do you?" Sinbad asked suddenly.

"Do I trust you?"

"Yeah."

Judal didn't know what to say. It should have been an easy "no," because Judal had counted on never trusting Sinbad or any of the people in this damned country. Sure, Judal crushed hard on Sinbad (really, he still did), but that was nothing like trust. And yet, Sinbad had proven himself time and time again. It was Sinbad who had taken Judal in, had watched over him as Yamuraiha tended to his wounds, and had cared for his precious hair when Judal didn't have the strength himself. Sinbad had treated him far better than anyone could expect; far better than Judal would have treated Sinbad had the situation been reversed. Judal could not imagine how Sinbad had any semblance of trust for him, after everything he had done. He supposed that was a worthy trait.

"I trust you," he admitted, "enough."

Sinbad's lips curled into a smile again, and Judal had to look away. "That's good."

Judal kneaded his hands together. "I haven't done anything to deserve your trust," he grumbled, "I never show you my true face. I'm always running from you. God, even that time in Sindria when I laughed at your sympathy, I was so stupid. I fucked up so bad, I can't even blame anyone—"

"Judal." Sinbad's voice broke through his thoughts, and then the bed sank beside him with Sinbad's weight. "What happened to you was not your fault."

"There's no one else to blame. I always bring these things on myself, if I didn't do shit all the time they wouldn't punish me like this—"

"You can't blame yourself for that," said Sinbad, brows knitted together with concern. "The way they treated you isn't your fault. If anything, I'm the one to blame, I should have protected you from them."

"You can't always be a hero, Sinbad," Judal muttered with a wry smile. "It wasn't your responsibility. I didn't expect anything from you."

"That doesn't mean the way I treated you was right."

Judal's smile fell as he fisted his hands into the silk fabric and forced himself to look away. No one had ever insinuated that he wasn't to blame for the things that happened to him, Judal had always been told that he'd brought these things upon himself. And now, here was Sinbad, understanding and nonjudgmental, someone who saw Judal as a person rather than just a magi.

The weight of those burdens had been too much to bear, through years and years of punishment and mistreatment. But now, it seemed as though Sinbad was willing to shoulder those burdens with him, and that was enough.

Judal was starting to get used to this awful humiliation as he felt himself begin to cry, felt the sobs racking his slender frame, and he couldn't believe he'd ever let Sinbad see him so weak. It was embarrassing, but comforting somehow, just being beside him, even when Judal was hysterical like this.

Sinbad had always looked at him with such pity, and Judal was sure that he still did. But when Sinbad's thumb caressed his cheek and gently wiped away a single tear, Judal could only cry harder.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Judal still hasn't gotten the outfit change he deserves in canon so he's gonna have like 7 in this ok
> 
> PS: I'm rewriting chapter 7 it was rushed and Not my Best so we will try again later
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated!!

"Ja'far, what _happened?_ "

Even when Sinbad finally left, Judal had been an absolute wreck. It was a rather pitiable thing; Judal had been so relaxed the night before, so peaceful, and now he was back at square one. It was so odd to see Judal cry, so oxymoronic. Judal was never sincere when he cried, not that Sinbad could remember. But maybe, as he had once thought, those crocodile tears all that time ago had been more earnest than Judal could admit, that the tragedy of his youth was becoming too much for him to bear. Judal had more to cry about than just about anyone.

A deep sigh came from the other man, and as he tended to filing paperwork Ja'far had yet to face him. "I assume you mean with Judal?"

"Yeah," said Sinbad. "What happened? Did you say something to him?"

There was another sigh, and Ja'far finally turned to face him. "I did not think he would react so...harshly."

Sinbad raked a hand through his hair. "They hurt him really bad. In Kou, I mean. He's bound to be sensitive."

Ja'far hesitated. "But how do you know that really happened?"

"I don't think he would lie about this," said Sinbad, exasperated. "That's too low, even for him. And besides," he paused for a moment, carefully considering his words. "Yamuraiha saw the scars."

And for a moment, Sinbad was reminded of the deep scars that he knew were thick on Ja'far's thighs, almost similar to ones that Judal was sure to have. They were too similar to treat each other this way, they both came from that same, dark place, only Ja'far had escaped when Judal could not. Sinbad wondered very briefly whether Judal would act similarly to Ja'far if he parted with Al-Thamen sooner. It was an interesting thought.

"That's beside the point," said Ja'far with a frown. "Maybe I was too harsh with him, but you're too gentle. You're so blind to his manipulations, Sin. Someone has to look out for you."

"You can't send him into a fit like that, though. He was really shaken up, whatever you said to him."

Ja'far set down his armful of scrolls with a deep sigh. "You're too forgiving, Sin, and that's fine. Do what you think is right. But I can't just stand by and watch as you let him ruin everything you've built—not again."

"Still, I want…" Sinbad had to pause for a moment, only to gather his own thoughts, because he really wasn't sure what he wanted. When it came to Judal, there were many things he wanted, of course, but he wasn't sure he knew how to vocalize what those things were, and how to translate those things into a language Ja'far could accept. "I want him to feel welcomed here," said Sinbad finally. "Sindria has always been a nation welcome to all, and Judal is no different. We can discuss the past when the present is not so pertinent, but," he came forward and rested a hand on Ja'far's shoulder, who seemed unamused as ever, "I want you to try for Judal. I am sure that he is trying too."

Ja'far stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowing with an unspoken doubt, but then he looked away and waved a hand. "I will do whatever you think is right, Sin. But I will always have my suspicions."

"I appreciate that you are looking out for me, and for Sindria. I expect nothing less. Just give him a chance, alright?"

Ja'far was silent for a moment, and then he sighed. "You have paperwork to finish. Pine for the magi later."

Sinbad met him with a laugh. "I will."

* * *

Sinbad had meant to start on work—really, he had. But somehow, he was reminded of the fact that Judal hadn't eaten at all since he came to Sindria, and the thought was too worrying to ignore. He couldn't really imagine that Judal wanted to see him—he couldn't imagine that Judal wanted to see anyone here—but that didn't matter.

When he arrived once again by Judal's chamber, the magi was not alone. At his side on the divan was Yamuraiha, working her healing magic into the skin of his bare back and shoulders. Sinbad could not help but silently marvel; Judal had a truly exquisite line of back, a gently sloping arc of pure milky white, bare but to the soft fabric pooling at his hips.

"Ah, Sinbad!" said Yamuraiha with a smile. "You're just in time, I just finished with him." At the sound Judal picked his head up, and his eyes grew faintly wider at the sight of the visitor. He instinctually threw his hair back over his shoulders, allowing it to slide over his back to hide the bare skin. The act of modesty was something so unlike Judal, so different from the way he usually carried himself, but it was almost cute.

"Is he doing well?" asked Sinbad, to which Yamuraiha nodded.

"He's doing much better already. I'll leave Judal to tell you the details, if he'd like," she said with a knowing smile.

As Yamuraiha left, Judal had already slid the garment back on over his head and draped the veil across the bruised coloring of his forearms. "Is there something you want?" he asked, keeping his gaze low.

"Are you feeling any better?"

His face seemed to gain color. "I'm fine," and then added, "I don't usually freak out like that."

"It's fine, I didn't mind," Sinbad assured. "It's healthy to let it that out."

Judal glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "I guess."

Sinbad smiled. "I thought you might be hungry."

There was a clatter when Sinbad set a plate upon the wooden table before them. At the sight of it, Judal's eyes were wide and hungry. "Are those peaches? How… Do they even grow here?"

"I made some special requests," said Sinbad with a smirk.

Judal's mouth was near the point of watering, but at the smugness in Sinbad's tone, he turned away with a huff. "I'm not hungry."

"Don't be like that," Sinbad chided. "You must be starving. I won't think any less of you if you take it."

"I don't need to be any deeper in debt to you, Stupid King."

At the revival of the childish nickname, Sinbad almost smiled. He had seen so little of the Judal he had always known since the magi was brought here, so quiet and unlike himself. The thought that Judal was healing, if slowly, was something that made Sinbad unusually satisfied.

"You haven't eaten since you came here. If you don't eat something now, I'll feed you myself."

Apparently the shame of being handfed was much greater than the shame of accepting the gift, because it did not take a second for Judal to flush and take a thin slice into his fingers. "There," Judal growled, mouth full and obviously enjoying it. "Are you happy now?"

"It's not a matter of whether I'm happy. It's a matter of you taking care of yourself."

Judal hummed in response, and starving as he was, took the whole platter into his lap. "That shouldn't matter. You just took me in; what does it matter if I starve myself?"

"It matters to me," Sinbad's brow creased with concern. "I won't let you hurt yourself in my country. This is a place for you to heal; I want you to be well and content here."

Judal grumbled something under his breath as he ate. "I still don't know how everyone is so happy here."

"What do you mean?"

"I dunno. There's no conflict at all. Everything is so peaceful. The only black rukh here is mine, and it's so… off-putting. I feel out of place."

"You shouldn't," Sinbad assured, and Judal eyed him carefully as he took a seat on the divan. "You know that you're welcome here. It doesn't matter if your rukh is black; mine is too. It doesn't matter if you're fallen, as long as you're happy."

"Well, I'm not," Judal grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest, unable to hide a wince at the soreness of them, and Sinbad's eyes softened.

"How about I take you into the bazaar tomorrow? It should be better than staying here all day, right?"

Judal almost looked taken aback at the offer, with something not unlike wonder shining in his scarlet eyes. "Aren't you busy? You're a king, aren't you?"

Sinbad couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm not a prisoner here, you know, and neither are you. You liked the markets back in Kou, didn't you?"

Judal shrugged. "I guess. I don't really remember a lot. I went a lot with Kougyoku when I was young, but they didn't let me go as much when I got older."

"Ah," said Sinbad, understanding. He couldn't help but let his mind wander to the extent that Al-Thamen controlled Judal's life; it must have been substantial if he were hardly able to leave the palace of his own will. Sinbad did not blame Judal for his skepticism. "Well, I'm sure that you'd like it."

"How are you going to explain me to your civilians?" Judal challenged, sitting up straighter. "You can't let your women think you're a taken man, can you?"

"A King showing a significant foreign ambassador around his country? It should be easy to believe."

"Fair enough."

"And I'll buy you anything you want," Sinbad insisted, to which Judal raised an eyebrow. "You didn't bring anything with you when you came, so I figured you would need some things."

"You don't need to waste money on me," Judal insisted. "I'm fine."

"It's not a waste."

Judal looked at him, and his expression had lost some of its ferocity. He hummed softly in response. "Whatever, Stupid King."

Sinbad smiled. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Tell me if you need anything, alright? And maybe don't ask Ja'far this time."

Judal looked away. "I won't make that mistake again."

"Don't be too hard on him. He means well, he's just worried."

"If you say so."

Sinbad rested a comforting hand on Judal's shoulder, and the magi only jumped for a split second at the sudden contact, but he did not flinch away like he was so used to doing, and his shoulders settled gradually into the touch. "I'll see you later, Judal. You should come down for dinner with me tonight."

"...maybe I will," Judal said slowly, studying Sinbad's warm smile as he got up from the divan and left the room.

* * *

In all honesty, Judal really didn't _want_ to go for dinner.

Still, it had been a real attempt on Sinbad's part, and Judal found that he couldn't turn him down. It was an embarrassing weakness. Even despite everything that had happened, Judal still had a place in his heart for Sinbad. Maybe Judal had grown so accustomed to Al-Thamen's treatment that he could get over it as though nothing had ever happened, but nonetheless, it hurt to think about. At least it wouldn't happen again soon.

And so, by Sinbad's request, he went to get ready.

The worst part had been bathing. Yamuraiha had done an excellent job healing the worst of him—a fact for which he was silently grateful—but there were still places that hurt. As Judal sank into the round, gold-rimmed bathtub, he hissed at the warm water stinging his tender legs and hips—the painful reminder that he was not whole—and tried to relax.

That was tolerable, still, compared to when he got out. Standing bare and naked against the cold porcelain tile, Judal truly looked at himself for the first time in days. With his hair put up, the tall mirror showed every flaw in his aspect, every uneven patch of skin, each seam of darkened scar tissue, every purple bruise and stark abrasion that graced his fair skin. Judal had never been perfect, there were always scars, but at each and every new addition the old ones seemed magnified tenfold.

Judal knew that Sinbad wouldn't want to have someone like this, when he could have anyone in the world. He had known before they had hurt him, but now he really had to face reality. He was in Sindria, right under Sinbad's thumb, closer than he'd ever been allowed, and yet there was no point to any of it. Sinbad would never want him.

Even so, Judal could fantasize. In spite of it all, he threw a towel over his damp shoulders and rummaged through drawers and cabinets for any sort of cosmetics, anything he could use to better himself—if only slightly. Judal had always prettied himself for Sinbad before, and now would be no different. If he were to give up like this then he would only give Al-Thamen the satisfaction of breaking his spirit, and even if that were partially true, there was no good reason to show it.

He colored his lips pink. He painted his eyelids gold. He dusted himself in the evocative scent of jasmine, an aroma that clung to the sheets and walls anyways, but still brought him a familiar sense of satisfaction. Judal had set his dark hair loose, but this time began his braid halfway down the length of it to keep it off the ground.

Judal almost missed his jewelry. He didn't like what the collar and bracelets had meant for him, but he liked the golden highlight that they had brought. He would have to find more of it eventually, though perhaps not something so obstructive and permanent this time. Still, though, his head had felt a lot clearer ever since he'd taken them off, a fact he noted as he rubbed his tender wrists. Judal shook his head; he could think about that tomorrow.

He came out from the bath with the towel still wrapped around his shoulders, and was somehow touched at the new garments laid out waiting for him. The clothes were red this time—something that Judal found suited him—entailing a leg dress with long slits up the side, a gold-seamed choli, and of course, the transparent veils he'd so come to favor. Sinbad was being awfully generous with these, but Judal was sure that he was just imagining it. Sinbad was a king—spare garments meant nothing to him.

The whole ordeal had taken a significant amount of time; night had fallen by the time Judal was fully dressed. Judal knew that he was making something out of nothing, it was just dinner, he hardly ate anyways, and the generals and officials would all be there, he was sure. But the invitation had meant a lot to him, in any case.

"Hey, you're Judal, right? The Kou Empire's magi?" an unfamiliar voice called from across the foyer once Judal had finally made his way down. He instinctively froze up at the mention; Judal had known other people would be here, but he hadn't really been in the mood to make conversation. His intentions had just been to find Sinbad, show that he'd made an effort, and leave as quickly as he had come. With the generals Sinbad had under him, though, that didn't seem like it would be plausible any time soon.

"Yeah," Judal grumbled when he turned around. He had known that there were people from all nations in Sindria, but even still, he almost jumped back at the men before him—one normal sized, and the other towering at nearly twice Judal's own height. He swallowed. "That's me."

"You know," said the smaller man—tanned with pale hair—"you don't really look much like Sinbad described."

"Oh? He talks about me?" asked Judal with a wry smile, trying to look behind the men for a glimpse of Sinbad. Judal didn't particularly _want_ to get to know anyone here, but that was an interesting tidbit of information, at least. "That's good to know."

"Oh, yeah," the smaller man went on, outstretching his hand. Judal eyed him for a moment before he took it. "He's mentioned you quite a bit ever since you came here. I'm Sharrkan, by the way, and this is Hinahoho."

"A pleasure," Judal answered flatly as he pulled away, but apparently he wasn't judged too harshly on his sour attitude, for both men smiled at him in response.

"It's good to meet you, Judal." The tall man, Hinahoho, outstretched a massive hand with a warm smile, and with some hesitation, Judal shook it in response. Judal's hand was dwarfed in comparison to the Hinahoho's, but his grip was not crushing, only firm. Judal silently resigned to the fact that it was better to have friends here than enemies, though Judal continually insisted that he did not have friends.

"Yeah. Do you know where that—ah, Sinbad is?" he asked quickly.

"He's over there," said Sharrkan with a toss of his head. "Be careful, though. He's a little woozy, if you know what I mean."

Ah. Judal had always known that Sinbad was one for the drink, but he wasn't sure if he'd ever actually seen the man at the point of intoxication. He wasn't sure whether to feel nervous. "Thanks."

And sure enough, Sinbad hadn't been far, laughing and drinking with his people. Judal was reluctant to interrupt him, but he had subjected himself to this uncomfortable environment for a reason. He nudged Sinbad on the shoulder. "Hey, Stupid."

Sinbad turned, eyes dimmed with momentary confusion, and then they brightened at the sight of him. "Oh, Judal! I didn't think you would make it down."

"Neither did I," Judal admitted sheepishly. "What's with all the dancer outfits you keep sending me?"

Sinbad grinned, and Judal narrowed his eyes. The idiot really must've been drunk. "I told you once that you'd be lucky in love if you dressed like a Sindrian, didn't I? You look great, too."

Judal was frozen stiff. His face had already begun to heat up, and that wasn't due to any sort of alcohol. "You're drunk," he stated plainly; a blatant excuse.

"I don't have to be drunk to know that you're beautiful." Judal's eyes were huge when Sinbad threw a heavy arm over his narrow shoulders, and drew back when Judal cringed at the weight. "Sorry. I forgot."

"You don't know what you're saying," stammered Judal. Sinbad must have been wasted out of his mind, to come up with something like that, to even suggest something so absurd. Try as he might, Judal was far from beautiful. Even in the beautiful clothes, his bony hips jutted out beneath the waistline of the pants, the bruising of his throat was never quite hidden by his hair, and he was so deathly pale, Judal could never fit in here. He shook his head. "I'm going to bed." Judal must have been dreaming, in any case.

"Come on, don't go so fast." Sinbad's hand slid down to Judal's veiled wrist to keep him still. "You haven't even eaten yet."

"I'm not hungry. I already ate."

"Aw, Judal, I didn't mean to embarrass you—"

"I need to go to sleep," Judal insisted, tugging his hand away. "A-And you should too. You're really out of your mind this time, Idiot."

"Stay a while," said Sinbad, lifting up a hand to draw down the shadow of Judal's pale face. Judal's breath hitched as a shiver ran through him at the touch, hand cold from the liquor. "With me."

It was everything Judal had ever wanted. As much as his head screamed no, as fear and memories reared up within him, his heart longed to say yes. As naïve as it seemed, Judal had longed for this for an eternity, had longed for Sinbad to want him, to at least look at him with that warmth he did now. Even if that was just the alcohol, that look had to have meant something.

And yet, Judal could not imagine his first and only night with Sinbad to be spent while the man could barely tell up from down, when any pretty dancer could serve the same place for him. Regardless of his intentions, Judal had longed for a night with Sinbad to be tender and touching and fulfilling, but if he were intoxicated, Judal knew there would be none of that.

"Perhaps another time," Judal insisted, and nudged Sinbad's hand away with his own. His cheeks tinged pink. "Take me into the city tomorrow, like you promised."

There was a moment when Sinbad seemed taken aback, so unaccustomed to the thought that his advances could be remotely declined. But then, as though the blow to his ego were nothing, he met Judal with a lopsided smirk. "I will. I didn't forget."

"Goodnight, Stupid King."

"Night, Judal."

It was an awful thing to stare, Sinbad knew it was. And it was an even worse thing to blame his lack of impulse control on any drunkenness he may have had, but watching Judal leave was nearly as pleasant as was watching him arrive. The outfit choice had been made in an effort to be of comfort to Judal, but Sinbad was equally comforted watching the sway of pale hips, the swath of long ebony hair; Sinbad could not name another creature more perfect. It was a shame he didn't want to spend the night, though Sinbad could hardly blame him.

As the night dragged on, Sinbad didn't look at anyone else with those same, hungry eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: omg sorry that chapter 9 is gonna be a little late!! i have a lot of days off this week though so ill probably post tuesday when im crying about the election :,)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm so sorry this is late! The last two weeks were... pretty awful, to put it lightly. And then with the election-I was just a mess, and I really didn't have the chance to write. But here it is! This chapter is a little longer than the last two, so I hope you all enjoy it ♡ 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated!

Sinbad had long been renowned for his peculiar tendencies when he was in an intoxicated state. But, at the very least, he could always remember most of the ridiculous things he'd said and done when he woke up the next day, though, he wasn't sure whether to consider this ability a blessing or a curse.

His ears burned as he rolled to an upright position, groaning as he put a hand to his throbbing temples. As his aching mind ran over the words he had dared to speak-to Judal of all people-Sinbad wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Typically, Sinbad considered himself decent in regards to matters of the heart, so he could only blame the intoxication for his outlandish behavior. What was he thinking, talking to Judal like that? What did his drunken mind possibly think that would accomplish?

Perhaps the worst of it was that Sinbad was well aware that such matters were sensitive issues for Judal, what with how he had been treated in the past, and inevitably how he would deal with intimacy in the future. (Again, it wasn't as though Sinbad considered intimacy to be remotely on the table for his interaction with Judal.) Still, Sinbad would be just as stupid as Judal surmised if he was unaware of the magi's blatant feelings for him, and for Sinbad to tempt him like that was heinously cruel. With everything that had happened, Sinbad didn't know whether the mention of intimacy was a prospect Judal was fit to endure.

Even so, Sinbad had spoken only the truth when he said Judal was beautiful. If there were anything Sinbad was sure he knew about the enigma that was Judal, it was that Judal was beautiful. While his most favored attire had been flattering, of course, as Sinbad himself had been the one to suggest the outfit long ago, there was something so lovely about the thought of Judal in red. There was something almost carnal about the way color swathed over him, how it lit fire in those scarlet eyes and glowed bright against his moonlit skin.

Sinbad was somehow vaguely reminded that in this region, red was the most favored color for a blushing bride.

Sinbad shook his head and groaned loud at the throb resurfacing in his temples. He must've been going insane, to ever even imagine Judal as a potential spouse. And then the thought of the magi returned to him—he couldn't be like this now, not when he had already promised to take Judal through the city. There was no conceivable way that Sinbad could turn his back on that promise, not when Judal had such little faith in this country as it was. Sinbad did want Judal to enjoy his time in this country, or at the very least, not to loathe it.

Admittedly, there was still an area of unsureness within Sinbad as to the exact definition of his relationship with Judal. While Sinbad did like Judal, even dropping the fact that he very much wanted Judal, the magi had done some things that were difficult to overlook. Even still, Sinbad couldn't bring himself to hate him. Sinbad had tried for years to shower Judal with nothing but bitterness and hatred, but due to his increasing physical attraction to the man, that was becoming a challenge.

And even forgetting such desires, Sinbad really liked Judal. In his own odd way, there was something very endearing and strangely likeable about Judal, even as he remained a shell of his former self. In spite of it all, Judal had retained his dry, opinionated sense of humor and his sharp tongue, and though he could be a bit of an idiot from time to time, there was a deep sense of intelligence lurking behind his eyes, and Sinbad rather liked that. For all of these things Sinbad had wanted Judal to like this country; the thought was too appealing to ignore.

Sinbad massaged his agonized temples and sighed. He supposed that he only had himself to blame for the drinking.

"Sin," came an exasperated growl from the doorway, "you need to wake up, you have business to attend to—"

Ja'far did not need to be silenced when he entered and found the King hunched over on the bed, moaning and clutching at his violet hair in something akin to agony. Ja'far groaned.

"This is your fault, you know," said Ja'far, and for a moment he looked as though he seriously debated tearing the sheets off of Sinbad, but then there was the annoying reminder that the idiot slept naked. He sighed and brushed away the thought. "Now put some clothes on and do your work!"

"I can't work today."

"Why not?" Sinbad was worse than a child, when he behaved like this.

"Because," he took his hands from his head and turned to Ja'far with an anxious chuckle. "I told Judal I'd take him to see the city today."

"No, you are absolutely not—"

"I already told him I would!"

"-letting the damned magi interfere with your kingdom! Sin, I am trying to be lenient, I am trying so hard, but you need to keep a level head. Play with him after you've finished what you need to do."

"I need to do this too," Sinbad insisted. He groped around the bed for his discarded robe. "I have a responsibility to take care of Judal. I promised that I would."

Ja'far sighed. "Your responsibility is to ensure that he does not die. You don't need to take him on dates, too."

"He's been miserable here. Judal needs to do something other than stay cooped up in bed. It won't take too long; I just thought I could show him around a little!"

There was a moment of hesitation, and then a defeated sigh. "Just know, I am not going to run this country for you, that's your job!"

"Alright, alright!" Sinbad held up his hands in defense, but he was grinning. "Don't worry about it. You worry way too much."

"With you as a king, I can't worry enough."

Sinbad managed a nod, still with a hand pressed to his throbbing skull. "Can you bring me something for a hangover?"

Ja'far rolled his eyes. "I should let you suffer, but fine. You need to focus after this, though. And for god's sake, put some clothes on!"

When the door slammed shut, Sinbad decided that his head hurt too much for him to take any real offense.

* * *

 

Somehow, Judal was getting used to the warm, salty air of the sea greeting him as he awoke. There was something too obscenely natural about waking up like this, Judal felt so unbothered, so well-rested and at peace. For the first time in too long, his night was dreamless and free of nightmares. The feeling had been euphoric. Despite his personal stigma against the matter, Judal could really get used to mornings like this.

While the warm air was undetectable, Judal did notice the aroma of fruit drifting towards his hungry nostrils. Judal could hear his stomach growl. While he really did not want to accept help from Sinbad, starvation seemed like too painful a death to endure, so Judal resigned to quickly snatch a peach from the basket on the dresser.

Vaguely, Judal knew that he needed to eat things other than peaches sometimes, but meat was almost enough to make him sick, and vegetables were just awful. It was more than likely that this lack of nutrition had something to do with his wiry frame and ghostly pallid complexion, but Judal shrugged off the thought. There were other things to attend to, for the time being.

After his stomach had ceased its growling, Judal got up from the bed and changed into something more appropriate. Today it was the white again, something that Judal found satisfactory, as drowning in darker colors would be a nightmare in the heat of the day. This time, Judal felt that he had the energy to put his hair into its usual long braid; it was too much of an effort to leave it down all the time, especially in the crowded streets.

As his mind raged on, Judal had never felt his heart beating so fast. To think, Sinbad would be spending the day with Judal by choice, not by obligation. After seeing Sinbad in such a state last night, Judal had serious doubt that he would even remember their plans, but he was hopeful nonetheless. Although Judal was still injured and unsure here in Sindria, he had recovered enough to remember that he cared for Sinbad, that his heart ached for the man, and that there was little he could do to change that.

Judal sighed and shook his head. He was foolish for thinking about things like this; he was only going to hurt himself in the end.

To the far end of the chamber, there was a long balcony overlooking the city below, and because he had nothing better to do, Judal found that looking off of it was a decent way to spend his time locked up in here. There was nothing else he could be doing, while he waited to see if Sinbad had the care to remember him. Judal huffed, blowing strands of dark hair back from his face as he rested his forearms over the rail.

There really was too much goodness in this place. Though Judal no longer had his treasured wand, he could still feel the rukh, he could still see them and hear their songs. It was only a small consolation for his current inability to perform magic. But in his time here, as he had already confirmed, there was not a single blackened rukh. Well, some of Sinbad's were darker, but Judal supposed that was his own doing from his attack long ago, so those didn't really count. But everything else was so pure and white and untarnished, it was almost too much for him to process. Judal didn't understand how things could be so simple.

Judal was usually more aware than this, but he blamed the ruckus and laughter in the city below for his inability to hear Sinbad come up behind him. When a hand nudged against his shoulder, Judal was quick to whirl around, eyes flashing with alarm, but when he saw who his assailant was, Judal lowered his hands with a sigh.

"You didn't forget."

"I said I wouldn't."

Judal sneered. "Maybe you aren't so stupid after all."

Comments like those were supposed to get a rise out of Sinbad, Judal at least expected some sort of reaction, but lately all he had been met with was a smile in response. It was growing increasingly more difficult to set him off.

"I'm glad you think so," Sinbad chuckled, and Judal looked away with the faintest semblance of a blush. He blamed it on the sun, of course, for dusting his cheeks with red.

"Are you ready to go, Judal?"

"Well, it's not like I have anything better to do." That was the closest to an enthusiastic "yes" Sinbad would likely ever get out of him, so Sinbad treated it as such.

"Good." Sinbad handed something over to him, and Judal took it with little hesitation. If Sinbad wanted to kill him, he would've done it already, so there was little point in being difficult about such things. "I wanted to give you this."

"What is it?"

"It's for your face. A veil," he added, and Judal's stomach sank.

"Oh, you must think I'm a fucking idiot, don't you?"

Judal turned away, fists clenched, and he didn't care whether Sinbad was confused or indignant, because Judal knew what this was. He should've realized sooner that Sinbad would be ashamed to be seen with him, but to resort to such a petty tactic, to try and hide Judal's face when they were together, it was more than he could take. Judal had always known that he would never be a match for those women draped over Sinbad's arms, he wasn't in the business of lying to himself. But he wished that Sinbad would just come out and say it.

"What?" Sinbad's stupidly large, stupidly warm hand was on his shoulder again, and there was concern laced into his voice. "Of course I don't. Why would you think that?"

"You think I can't tell when you're embarrassed of me?" Judal all but spat, shrugging the hand off of his shoulder. "Are you really so ashamed to be seen with me that you need to hide my face? Or is it that I'm so ugly you can't stand the sight of me?"

Sinbad didn't seem to have expected the blow. When Judal turned to face him he boasted a look of genuine surprise, eyes wide and glinting with faint disbelief. "What are you talking about? Is that what you thought I meant with the veil?"

Judal sputtered. "Well-what was I supposed to think?"

"I never meant that," Sinbad assured, shaking his head. "I just thought that you would be sensitive to the sun, because your skin is so fair. I never meant to hide you."

Judal's stomach churned. "Oh. Well, I'm just fine like this." Sinbad was right, though, his skin was sensitive to the sun, because he hardly went out into the heat back home, and Judal was sure that he would gain color while he was here. He was almost anxious now, thinking of it—tan skin was attractive on Sinbad, but Judal was certain that it wouldn't look good on him. A covering had been a good idea, a considerate one, but Judal certainly couldn't accept it now after he'd reacted so harshly.

"I'm sorry," said Sinbad, seeming to understand. He risked a warm smile. "You don't have to wear it. It was thoughtless of me to suggest."

'No it wasn't,' Judal almost said, but instead he gave a "humph" in response. "I shouldn't have been so sensitive."

"I don't blame you for being sensitive." His tone seemed thick with pity, and Judal tensed at just the thought.

"Yeah, whatever."

"You do still want to go, right?"

There was something like hope in his words, but Sinbad must've been stupid if he ever thought that Judal could deny him. "Of course I still want to go, idiot."

By then, Judal's tone had lost its venom, and Sinbad smiled at him. "Good," he said, in a way that made Judal's heart skip a beat, that made his cheeks burn and made him feel as though his insides were going to melt. And then Sinbad outstretched a hand, smile broadening. "Then let's go."

Judal was already weak at the knees, just from that, so he couldn't begin to comprehend how he would spend an entire day at Sinbad's side like this. In any case, he swallowed and placed a pale hand in Sinbad's palm, and the perfect fit was too natural to be a coincidence.

* * *

 

There was something almost alien about bearing witness to this strange, complacent version of the Judal Sinbad had always known. There was still a fire to him, a dark shadow behind his eyes, the occasional spiteful comment strung into his words, but greater than that, he seemed peaceful. Judal was never calm, nor easily appeased, but with the transparent veil thrown over his head (he was too stubborn to wear it over his face, but he was too defenseless against the sun to do nothing) there was something almost demure in his aspect. Sinbad did not associate Judal with domesticity, that was for certain. But the way he blended in with the people of the market, the way the blazing sun glowed off of his moon-kissed skin, it was difficult not to.

"What are you looking at, stupid?"

Sinbad hadn't caught himself staring until it was too late. Judal, with his thinly-veiled sneer and rose-dusted cheeks, clearly noticed.

"Nothing."

"Hm." Judal's simper was almost sly. "Worried I'll take all of the attention off of you?"

It was supposed to be a jab, but Sinbad was hardly put-off. Judal would always be a brat, in some way or another. However, he really was garnering a significant amount of attention on the streets, though not in any way that incited jealousy in Sinbad. Judal, with his delicate face, with his flashing carmine eyes and impossibly long hair, with his porcelain skin and defined figure, was always at the center of attention.

But Sinbad did not mind in the way that Judal seemed to think, though. He minded in the way that a man's eye might linger a second too long as Judal walked past, Sinbad minded in the way that he saw want and lust in those watchful eyes. There was a certain indecency with which people looked at Judal, something that roused a protective instinct within Sinbad. It was an indecency Judal didn't deserve, but then again, that wasn't for Sinbad to concern himself with.

"Very funny," Sinbad replied. Judal bought it.

"You know," said Judal, tugging lightly on Sinbad's wrist. Sinbad wasn't sure when his hand had found it. "People don't seem to hate it here."

"That is the goal," Sinbad chuckled. "Do you?"

He took a moment, staring at his feet, and the redness across his cheeks seemed to deepen just faintly. Judal pulled his hand away and crossed his arms. "No. I never hated this stupid place."

Before Sinbad could question him further, Judal had run off again, poking his nose into every shop and vendor with a childlike exuberance. Sometimes, Sinbad forgot that Judal was never really allowed to be a child. It was at times like these when Sinbad was reminded that Judal really was rather innocent, in a strange way. In all truth, it was amazing that Judal had retained any sense of self through his time under Al-Thamen, but here, it seemed as though he were actually alive.

After a while of this, with Sinbad trailing just a few paces behind the enthused magi, Judal slowed to a halt before a certain shop, eyes gone wide with wonder.

"Ah, do you like gold, miss?" asked the elderly vendor with a bit too much enthusiasm. "You have a good eye. Gold jewelry is more popular than ever, these days.

It seemed as though Judal missed the comment addressed towards his gender, a fact for which Sinbad thanked the heavens, because he was reluctant to watch Judal revert to his familiar destructive state. But when he was calm like this, Sinbad could get a good look at what had caught Judal's attention.

Displayed across the table were all sorts of precious jewelry and gemstones, gleaming in the sunlight. Judal let his careful hands wander over to an extravagant-looking golden necklace. The piece would be a worthy replacement for his old necklace; only this one was incomparably more ornate, made with intricate swirls within the gold, with fine gaps in the metal between them. If the look in Judal's eyes said anything, it was that he wanted it.

"Do you want it?" asked Sinbad gently, watching as Judal guided his thumb carefully over the stone.

Judal hesitated. "No." He pulled his eager hands away. "I don't need anything from you, Sinbad."

And with that, Judal turned and went away to distract himself with other things, though Sinbad never took an eye off of him. In the moment that his back was turned, Sinbad reached into his robe with a sigh and presented the man with a sack of gold coins. "How much?"

"100 gold," said the man, smiling knowingly as Sinbad passed it over to him. Though Judal was stubborn, Sinbad knew that it would make him happy. He knew that Judal had felt bare and naked without his jewelry, and though he displayed a clear reluctance to accept help, Sinbad wanted to do whatever he could to make life easier for Judal.

Sinbad took the necklace and hid it into his robe. He had to admit, Judal did have good taste. "Thanks."

"Ah, there's no need to thank me." The old man had a twinkle in his eye. "You know, if I hadn't seen it for myself, I never would've believed that our High King had given away his heart."

Sinbad paled at the accusation. His playboy reputation was long-standing around the Kingdom, and for good reason, as he never made an effort to hide this nature of himself. Sinbad's true affections had always been coveted through the nation, so the thought of one day giving his heart to Judal, of all people…

Sinbad managed a nervous laugh. "W-We'll see about that."

Judal wasn't very far away, having busied himself looking at other trinkets, but he didn't seem quite so enthused about those. Sinbad decided that it might be better to wait a while to give him the necklace, because Judal didn't seem very open to accepting help at the moment.

"What took you so long?" asked Judal with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing," said Sinbad quickly. "I was just looking."

Judal eyed him carefully, but he shrugged and turned away again. "Alright, whatever."

"It's getting kind of late, isn't it?" asked Sinbad, and he was right, the sun was lower in the sky than it had been before, and the rush of the day was coming to an end. Judal hummed in agreement.

"Yeah." And then, softer, "this was fun."

Sinbad smirked. "You think so?"

"Oh, don't look so smug," Judal huffed with discontentment. "It's not like I'm in love with this place. But I wasn't in love with Kou, either."

"I don't blame you," Sinbad agreed. "We can do this again, if you'd like."

Judal hesitated, scarlet eyes gone just faintly wider, before his gaze hardened again. "You must have better ways to spend your time."

"Don't get me wrong, this wasn't a chore," Sinbad assured. "I don't mind at all. And it gets me out of paperwork, too."

Judal couldn't help but laugh, just softly and to himself, a murmur under his breath, but there was something very pretty about a laugh like that. Most often, Judal's laughter was raucous and loud and overbearing, the kind of harsh pitch that could crack a wine glass. But this was different, this was softer and delicate somehow, in a way that Sinbad had hardly seen in Judal. Sinbad wondered how he hadn't noticed sooner, but then again, Judal hadn't been laughing very much since he came here.

"You're an idiot, Sinbad," said Judal, but it was uttered with a certain warmth that Sinbad had never really heard from Judal, and for just the barest second there was light in his eyes all over again.

Sinbad caught himself smiling. "Let's get you out of the sun."

He placed a hand on Judal's bare shoulder, but Judal yelped sharply in response, and Sinbad's hand immediately sprang back.

"What's wrong? What did I do?"

Judal glanced away, something pink flushing brightly against his cheeks. "No, it wasn't your fault. You warned that the sun would hurt me."

Ah, so that was it. Sinbad couldn't hide a chuckle and Judal shot him with a glare. "Don't laugh at me, idiot king."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh." Even as he said it, Sinbad's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Come on. Let's go and see what we can do about your sunburn."

It was indiscernible whether the color sprinkled across Judal's cheeks was due to the sun or his own embarrassment. "Fine."

* * *

 

The island of Sindria was not incredibly large, and the palace was nearest to the bazaar anyways, so it hardly took long for them to make it back. The sun had already set, by then, and Judal wondered vaguely how time had gone by so quickly when it was spent with Sinbad.

Sinbad had to show Judal the way back to his room, because "this place is too fucking big to find anything in." Judal felt unusually tired, it seemed the sun wearied him too easily, so he fell onto the large, plush bed with a "humph."

"Let me go get some lotion for your back," said Sinbad, to which Judal felt himself go red. He had almost forgotten about that, but his shoulders were unusually tender and burnt, and he knew it would be a nightmare if left untreated. Judal sighed and lifted the veil off of his head-he now saw why it was stupid not to wear it-and folded it with an unusual sentiment. Judal had never had many real belongings, but here he already had a modest wardrobe after just two days. It was nice to have possessions, for once, even if they were small and insignificant. Judal shook his head-it was unusual of him to feel so sentimental.

It wasn't long before Sinbad came back, vial of lotion in hand. Judal was almost embarrassed, having to be cared for all the time; he hated feeling helpless. But then again, there was some merit in being able to accept help, every once in a while.

"Here, sit up for me," Sinbad coaxed, and Judal, grumbling, eased himself into an upright position.

"You know what, I think I'm fine, I don't need this or your help-"

"Judal," Sinbad sighed, "I told you that I don't mind. Let me help you with this."

His voice was commanding and strong when he spoke like that; Sinbad truly was a perfect King. Judal had always admired him for traits like these, his unwavering spirit, his strong sense of justice, but also that Sinbad was kind and laid-back, and oddly gentle. The mesh of traits was attractive to Judal, who had known strength but never kindness, who had been commanded but never cared for. He felt safer being here, and it was almost a shame that he wouldn't be for long.

"Fine."

Sinbad hesitated for a moment. "Can I..."

"What?"

"Will you be alright if I take off your shirt?"

Judal tensed. In truth, the scarring of his back really wasn't so bad. Yamuraiha had worked tirelessly on whatever damaged tissue was there, but it was hardly a lot. Most of that had been minor and faded already, and it wasn't much, so Judal conceded, and pulled his shirt over his head slowly, and he could feel something change in Sinbad's eyes as he watched the display; there was something different in his aura. If Judal had been paying any attention, he would have noticed the pinkness of Sinbad's rukh by then, but he was too distracted with his own state of mind.

Sinbad handled Judal's long braid carefully, like he knew that it was a treasure to him, and placed it gently over his right shoulder. Judal shivered, tense as Sinbad gazed at the nakedness of his back, at the expanse of pale skin with only the faintest bit of pinkish hue marring his shoulders.

"It will be a little cold, is that alright?"

"Whatever."

Still, Judal couldn't help but jump when he felt the frigid hands against his bare shoulders, lathering his skin with healing oils. Once the initial sensation receded, he could feel the oils sinking into the burns, deeper into his bones, and he moaned softly in appreciation. It was unfortunate that he missed Sinbad's look of response.

"It doesn't hurt, right?"

"No." It felt good. Sinbad's hands were expertly skilled, and though his rings were cold against Judal's back, his palms were pleasantly warm. Judal relaxed into the touch, eyes slipped shut and features free of worry. "But next time, I'll wear the veil."

"I'm sure," Sinbad snorted, but then he was silent for a moment before he spoke up again. "You know, I really didn't mean to offend you."

"I know that now," Judal grumbled to himself.

"I'm not ashamed of you, though, I can promise that. I don't intend to hide that I took you in, that was never my intention."

Judal waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah, you've made your point."

The notion that Sinbad might be embarrassed to be near him really had hurt Judal. Perhaps he was just being oversensitive, but he already felt useless enough as it was. That would have been rejection in its worst form, and Judal wasn't sure that he was in the proper emotional state to endure that.

"Is that better?"

Judal rolled his shoulders back and nodded. His skin was clear and soft all over again, reminding him briefly of the image he had always sought to attain. That reminded him—Judal hadn't the time to go and see Yamuraiha today. He was sure that she'd scold him for his negligence, but that was alright. It was having someone to scold him that meant the most.

"Yeah, thanks." Judal pulled his shirt back on over his head with a yawn. The sun had fallen below the horizon with only a few low candles to illuminate Judal's chamber. He sighed and turned to face Sinbad. "Look, you don't have to keep serving me. It's beneath you."

"Why, because I'm a king?" scoffed Sinbad. "I wasn't always that way. It's no trouble."

"Still!" Judal exclaimed, his features twisted with confusion. "I am a magi, and you're a king. If anything, I should be the one bowing to you and following your demands. I'm not used to the opposite."

"You are no servant, Judal," Sinbad assured, almost perplexed by the statement. "Trust me; you're too stubborn for that." Judal wasn't sure whether that was supposed to be an insult.

"I am no king, either."

Sinbad hesitated, and Judal could witness the internal struggle in his eyes, debating on what to say next. "Are you happy, as Kou's magi?"

"I don't know," Judal muttered. "It's just where I've always been. I never really had a say. And I love Kougyoku and the others and all, but… I don't know. I've never really loved it there."

"You know," Sinbad began, "even once Kou is safe again, I wouldn't mind you staying here."

Judal sputtered. "What? What's that supposed to mean—"

"I'm asking if you would be Sindria's magi," Sinbad said slowly, since it must've been clear in Judal's features that his brain was shutting down. Sindria's magi? Was this a joke? All Judal's life, ever since he first laid eyes on Sinbad, he had longed for this. He had longed to be at Sinbad's side, to get away from his life in Kou, to start something better here. But how could he do that when hardly a soul could even stand him being here, when he was in such a broken state that he could barely cast a spell?

"I don't know," said Judal again, "how could you trust me?"

"Well, I mean, this wouldn't be an immediate thing," Sinbad assured. Judal searched for some semblance of humor in his eyes, for him to go back on his words with a "never mind" or insist that he wasn't serious. But Sinbad's golden eyes were pure and the emotion in them was raw, and Judal couldn't tear his gaze away. "We'd have to see how things go while you're here, and how you get along with the generals and all. But I think that you can be trusted enough, and if you swore yourself to Sindria, I would welcome you."

Judal swallowed. He had just come here, and everything was still tense and uncomfortable, and yet here was this offer, to stay. Judal swallowed a lump in his throat. "I…"

"You don't have to answer me right now," Sinbad said quickly, waving a hand. "Think about it and let me know. Alright?"

Judal found it in himself to nod. "Okay."

Sinbad got up from the bed with a nod. "It's late, you should rest. You still aren't at your full health."

Judal didn't need to be reminded, but he nodded again. "Goodnight, idiot." Now, that was almost becoming a term of endearment.

Luckily, Sinbad didn't seem to mind, and shot back a lopsided smirk as he went for the door. "Goodnight, Judal."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to get back into the habit of weekly updates! I wasn't very busy this week, so it wasn't too hard for me.
> 
> I'm not sure how many chapters I'd like this to be. I'm shooting for somewhere around 20-30, and my ultimate goal is to hit 100k words. But I've never really written anything longer than like, 10k in the past, so we'll see.
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated! ♡

It was his fourth day in Sindria when Judal found that he could not sleep.

He thought that he was done with the nightmares. He thought that that was a piece of him left behind in his childhood years, from the time when he was too young to make sense of it all, and his mind tormented him through his dreams.

It was when, for the second time that night, Judal shot awake in a cold sweat, chest heaving and gasping for breath, that he knew something was wrong.

It was so odd for this to be happening now, particularly when the day before was so oddly fulfilling. Judal didn't know what to think of that, or of the new feelings that were inevitably brewing between him and Sinbad, especially not now. To be honest, he didn't want to think about that.

When Judal was younger, the dreams had been real nightmares. As a child he would run crying to Ithnan, too little and too naïve to really understand (his rukh had been white, then), who always assured him that everything was fine and not worry about a thing. It wasn't until he was older when he began to understand that the real monsters existed only in his waking mind, and these ones were no figment.

Judal had begun to cherish sleep then, because generally they left him alone at night, unless he was being punished. Judal tasted bile at the thought. He opened his tired eyes, watching with intense focus the rukh fluttering above him on the bed. The rukh were whiter, lately. And the black ones were still there, of course, but as a whole, the body of rukh was white, with the occasional blackness peppered into the mix.

Judal sighed and raised a finger, watching as one of the rukh perched upon it, and for a moment his eyes softened. Twisting into a frown, Judal waved the bird away and scoffed at his own foolishness. There was no point in thinking about that now, he thought, lowering the raised hand to rub at his bruised wrists.

In the end, Judal decided that he didn't need sleep, and had lay awake glaring at the intricate runes in the ceiling for hours.

"Have you been sleeping well, Judal?" Yamuraiha asked while tending to him later in the day, working magic into his tender skin. Judal didn't know how to express that he was grateful for it, in the barest sense of the word, but he wasn't sure that he had to. That would make things too awkward, and he had a comfortable enough relationship with Yamuraiha to assume that she knew.

Judal scoffed. "Why should you care?" How would she even know about that? Judal hadn't said anything, nor did he intend to. He was going to sit on this stupid issue until it silenced itself all together, and he certainly did not intend to talk about it.

"Your magoi seemed rather upset last night. It isn't usually so rowdy, is it?"

"I didn't think ordinary magician could see the rukh," Judal complained.

"Well, I can't see them," she admitted, "but all magicians have a connection. I could sense something amiss."

Judal grunted and crossed his arms. "You're worrying for nothing. I'm fine, don't worry about it. Just fix my body." Judal could fix the rest of himself on his own. He didn't need a healer for that.

It had been obvious enough that Judal didn't want anyone to pry, and for a while, Yamuraiha had respected that. It seemed, though, that either curiosity or concern or whatever else had been too tempting for her to ignore. "If there's something bothering you, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone."

Judal didn't say anything. He didn't want to reveal anything about himself, not to anyone, especially not to this woman he'd barely known four days. But there was the issue of debt and gratitude, wasn't there? Judal couldn't stand to be in debt, and he was grateful enough. He sighed, already feeling his future regrets. "You can't tell anyone. Not even Sinbad." Especially not Sinbad.

"I won't say anything."

Judal breathed a deep sigh. "I don't know. Just nightmares, I guess. But I'm fine, so don't worry about it." It sounded even more pathetic when he said it out loud.

Yamuraiha's features were oddly free of judgment. "Are they about anything in particular?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. About what happened, I guess. And..."

She allowed him a moment to gather his thoughts before gently prodding again. "What is it, Judal?"

"It's stupid, but I think about my family a lot. At least, I think they were my family? Those were the people I saw when the baby magi showed me my past. I've been seeing them in my dreams a lot more since I came here."

"I don't think that's stupid," she soothed. "It's normal to wonder where you came from, especially after what happened to you."

"I guess," he murmured to himself. "I don't want to think about them. It's a waste of time and it hurts, and I'm tired of that."

Judal wasn't quite sure where he'd found the room in himself to tell her his secrets, this woman who he barely knew. Maybe it was because he had no one else to tell, with Kougyoku gone, and because his magic was rather similar to Yamuraiha's, so he had reason to let down his guard. Still, he already felt too exposed around the woman, she had seen almost every inch of him, even the places he could never let anyone see. She had already seen so much of Judal; it couldn't hurt for her to know the rest.

"Have you told anyone else about this?" The underlying question was thick in her words: Sinbad. Judal scowled at the thought.

"No, and neither will you. This stays between us." Judal did not need Sinbad to pity him more than he already did. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Alright, I promise that I won't tell anyone. But you know you can talk to me, don't you?"

Judal stared at her for a while, and as she started to put away her supplies he figured that she was done with him, so he stood up with a grunt of disinterest. "Why do you care, anyway? Don't you hate me? I've done a lot of shit, you know. I ruined lives. I killed people, and I liked it. Doesn't that disgust you?"

She only smiled, and it almost infuriated him. "Your past deeds seem to disgust you more than they do anyone else."

Judal scowled. "I-"

"I don't have any animosity towards you, Judal. I consider myself a good judge of character, and I know that under all of the bravo, you have a good heart."

"You're a real shitty judge of character, Yamuraiha."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Its good to make amends for what you've done, and you should, but don't punish yourself. Sinbad wouldn't want that."

"I don't care what Sinbad wants. He can think whatever he wants about me, it doesn't change a damn thing."

"Doesn't it, though?" She asked and stepped closer, resting a hand upon his shoulder. "You think I don't know why you're so conscious about your scars?"

"I'm not conscious," he spat and shrugged her hand away. She was right, though. It was an awful reason to feel motivated, for the approval of a man, but Judal wanted Sinbad to think he was beautiful. He wanted that more than anything. Even if Judal were a man and Sinbad would never want him, Judal wanted to be a prize, to be unattainable. He could never be beautiful when he was like this, when his legs and hips bore the painful reminders of what he was and would always be. Sinbad would never want him like this. "How is the healing going, by the way? Is it getting better?"

The contradiction of his words was almost laughable, but Yamuraiha humored him anyway. "There is some improvement, even if it's only been a few days. Though..."

Judal's stomach sank. "What?"

She sighed. "Some of the damage is old and deep. Scar tissue like that can never be completely repaired."

"So-So what?" Judal swallowed a lump in his throat. He had entertained a sliver of hope, before, that his body could somehow be flawless again someday, that he could erase these bitter memories once and for all. Clearly, he had been too optimistic. "So I'm just supposed to live like this forever? I'm supposed to go to my grave looking like a monster?"

He must've been making quite a fuss, because Yamuraiha was quick to soothe him, hurrying to his side to place her hands on his shoulders. "Don't worry yourself like this, Judal, you are not a monster. Everyone has a history, you are no different. Hidden scars won't affect the way anyone looks at you, not here at least, alright? Any man would be lucky to have you."

Judal had calmed, at least a little, but those last words caught him. He sat up a little straighter. "What do you mean, 'man?'"

"Ah-Are you not gay?" she sputtered, "I didn't mean to assume, I just-" she seemed so taken aback, Judal could have laughed as the color came to her face. "I didn't mean to offend-"

"I mean, you're not wrong," he admitted, "I just never told you." Sexuality had been a private matter for Judal, especially under Al-Thamen. Only Kougyoku knew for sure, and Sinbad probably had some idea, but he never told anyone else. The risk of anyone finding out was too high, so it was always just easier not to say anything. "What gave it away?"

"Women's intuition?" she tried. "You don't react to my healing like most men do. And the way you dress and carry yourself is just... very unlike most men." She didn't miss the way his cheeks flared red. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. I won't say anything, I promise."

Judal found that Yamuraiha was suddenly entrusted with too many of his secrets for him to take comfort, and he took a hesitant step away with a sigh. "Yeah. Fine, just... Don't say anything."

"You have my word."

Judal looked down at himself then, stomach tense, and though his clothing hid his body he knew he was damaged and broken and very undesirable. And even if he were flawless, it was useless to think that Sinbad even had a taste for men. Yamuraiha had said herself that Judal wasn't like most men in his tastes, the odds for Sinbad to feel the same were painfully slim. He took a deep breath.

"Even if it's pointless, keep trying with the healing. Please," he murmured, voice low, and he caught her nodding from the corner of his eye.

"Of course. I'll do my whatever I can."

Judal did not like to think that he had friends, but at the very least, Yamuraiha made a good ally.

* * *

 

Sinbad supposed that Judal's conversation with Yamuraiha was not meant to be overheard, especially considering the great amount of times he'd instructed her, "Don't tell anyone."

And he hadn't meant to eavesdrop, that wasn't the intention. Sinbad knew that Judal had such little privacy and space here as it was, he should at least be entitled to his private conversations. He had only meant to see how Judal was doing, because he knew that Judal had some insecurity about himself through the treatment, and he only wanted to make sure that the boy was alright.

Sinbad hadn't overheard a lot, either. He had only found himself outside Yamuraiha's ajar chamber door when Yamuraiha had begun with, "any man would be lucky to have you."

Somehow, it hadn't really registered with Sinbad until then that Judal was gay. He knew that Judal felt something for him, whatever that something was, but he'd been involved with Kougyoku, right? Or was that just reading too deep?

In any case, there was no way Sinbad could walk in there now and face Judal's wrath. He had reached a reasonably decent position in his relationship with Judal, whatever that was becoming, and he had no intention to humiliate the magi when he was so emotionally vulnerable.

So, he left. It was the only thing Sinbad could really think to do, and if he ever discussed this matter with Judal, he certainly couldn't bring it up himself. Sinbad heaved a deep sigh, roaming aimlessly through the palace. Perhaps he would go and dedicate himself to his work, for a while. Though he despised it, work was always an excellent distraction.

When he heard muffled whispering and banter down a passing corridor, though, Sinbad was too intrigued to keep walking.

"A-Ah-not here, Masrur! What if someone sees us?"

Just hearing that made Sinbad stop dead in his tracks. Sinbad did not particularly consider himself one prone to gossip, but after hearing that—in a distinctly male voice, he noted—his interest was thoroughly piqued.

Sinbad dared to peek out from behind the wall, and at the sight before him, his blood ran cold.

Sharrkan was pressed back against the wall with Masrur towering over him, hips grinding up against the other man's. Sharrkan had never been petite, but he was dwarfed beneath Masrur, who towered over him with a mammoth build. Both of them were breathing heavy, and Sinbad could barely catch a glimpse from the awkward angle, but the situation seemed anything but chaste.

"That's never stopped us before," Masrur countered, and Sharrkan responded with a moan as their hips rolled together. Clearly, this hadn't been a one-time thing.

"I—Ah! Masrur, you bastard," he crooned, but the want was thick in his voice, eyes clouded with desire, and Sinbad vaguely wondered how he hadn't noticed sooner. For all the longing gazes at dinner, all the snarky comments and constant bickering, one would have to be blind not to notice that something was there. "I… I can't wait for the day you're on your knees, apologizing for the way you treat me."

There was an unusual glimmer of mischief in the stoic man's eyes: a side that Sinbad had never seen to him before, which was definitely concerning, considering how long they'd been acquainted. "As you wish," he breathed in that low, throaty voice, and as he got down on his knees with eyes level to Sharrkan's waistline, Sinbad decided that he'd seen enough.

Ducking back behind the wall, Sinbad was sure that he'd gone beet red. He had reason to be alarmed, he was so confident that both Masrur and Sharrkan were heterosexual, in every sense of the word. Did Sharrkan not have feelings for Yamuraiha as everyone surmised? And Masrur—he was the wildcard, always so silent and brooding, but to think that there was such a devious side to him…

Sinbad shook his head as he walked away, very much wishing that he'd never witnessed the scene in the first place. Now, he was more confused than ever in regards to his own situation, for lack of better term. He hadn't really thought of same-sex relations until recently, not until Judal had come into the picture. Judal was pretty, of course, but he was still a man, and it wasn't as though Sinbad could pretend like he was a woman for the sake of his pride.

Judal's gender had always been something of a…hurdle, for Sinbad. There were things that he felt for Judal, certainly, but his sex had been hard to ignore, for a while, at least. It was almost embarrassing to think, but seeing Masrur and Sharrkan had been eye-opening (in more ways than one). The pair clearly had chemistry even in spite of their biological sexes, and if they could get along, then there was no reason for Sinbad to make things more difficult for himself and Judal.

He wasn't even quite sure whether he felt that way for Judal, not yet. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wasn't quite put-off by the thought of being with another man—especially if that man were Judal.

* * *

 

Judal had always liked the gardens back at home. It was an easy way to pass the time when he was bored, and there were always plenty of peaches for him to indulge. That, and it was peaceful. His mind had been too tormented lately, and Judal was in definite need of a place to relax.

The gardens here were nice too. Compared to Kou, they seemed more tropical, the fruits here were not like peaches, but Judal found that they were still pleasantly sweet and melted on his tongue. They weren't the same, but he didn't mind the change. Judal was beginning to feel that way about a lot of things, here.

Still, he sighed. Without his wand, it was growing annoyingly difficult for Judal to be able to do anything. He could do enough without it: he could still levitate, and he could perform other simple tasks, but without a wand to concentrate his magic, he was rendered useless as a magi. He almost wanted to ask Sinbad for a new one, but hadn't he accepted enough from the idiot already? He couldn't ask for more, that would only make him seem ungrateful, and contrary to his behavior, Judal was anything but.

With an exotic fruit in hand-he wasn't sure of the name, but it tasted good and that was enough-he continued making his way through the winding paths. Even if he did get lost, it was something to distract him from everything, especially Sinbad.

"I thought I'd find you out here."

Perhaps the thought was too good to be true.

"How did you find me?" Judal countered, hand on his hip as he turned to regard Sinbad. "Don't you have work to be doing?"

"My life is more than just desk work, you know," said Sinbad with a chuckle. "It was a lucky guess."

"Oh, really?" Judal rolled his eyes. And to think, Sinbad could ever be the one pursuing him, even if just for a second. The thought was too absurd to consider.

"That," he began, "and I saw you from the balcony. You looked lost, I thought you could use the help."

Judal scowled. "I'm not—" and then his features softened and he heaved a sigh. "Okay, fine, whatever. Maybe I'm lost, but this place is huge, and I don't know where the fuck I'm going, anyway."

Sinbad chuckled in response. "I can show you out, if you want. But you seem to be enjoying yourself among all the flowers and...mangoes?"

"Oh, come on," Judal grumbled and elbowed him. "You can't think I only eat peaches. I like other fruit too."

"It's just..." Sinbad seemed almost perplexed at the revelation. "I've never seen you eat anything else."

"Well, you have now." Judal took another pointed bite, and continued with his mouth full. "Can we go back now? I'm tired of being out in the sun. I don't wanna get burnt again."

Sinbad met him with a smile, and Judal felt a shiver run up his spine. "Sure, I'll take you back."

The gardens were far vaster than Judal had expected. The winding paths and lush greenery had proved challenging for Judal to navigate on his own, since—true to Yamuraiha's word—his sleep really was affected by his nightmares. Judal's eyelids felt unusually heavy, so it was a good thing that he had Sinbad to aid him. Not like Judal would accept any help from Sinbad, though, even if his life depended on it.

Judal yawned and fanned his open mouth with a lazy hand as he walked. Apparently, the gesture was broad enough for Sinbad to take note.

"Have you been sleeping well, Judal?"

"I've been sleeping fine," he replied evenly, "though, that wouldn't really concern you."

"You don't look like it," said Sinbad, and Judal shot him a look of faint offense. "Not that you look bad, or anything. Just tired. Are you sure that everything's okay?"

"Don't worry about me, idiot. I'm doing just fine." He wasn't, but that was okay. As much as bad dreams plagued him, Judal was no longer a child, and he refused to let something so juvenile impact his life as it already had.

Sinbad didn't seem quite convinced. "Are you sure, Judal? I don't want you to feel restrained around me. If there's something bothering you, don't hesitate to let me know."

"And what good would that do?"

"I could help you with it."

Judal guffawed at him. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious," tried Sinbad again. "If there's something upsetting you, I'll do whatever I can to help you."

Judal didn't say anything. Sinbad's words were full of empty promises, it was just something Judal had grown to accept. Still, though, the offer was nice enough.

Judal meant to spit something back at him, but when he felt something damp splash against his arm, he stopped entirely. "Did you feel that?"

"What?"

"It's raining."

It was. Tiny droplets peppered the paths one at a time until puddles began to manifest, turning the soil to mud as rain splattered against Judal's pallid skin. They were too far from the palace to really do anything about it, so Judal did all he could really think of and crossed his arms over his chest with a groan.

"I guess it is," said Sinbad, glancing up at the sky for the barest of moments before shaking his head. "You'll get sick if you stay out in the rain like this. Come here."

Judal raised an eyebrow with a snort but followed along anyway, and as the rain picked up in its intensity he found himself hurrying after Sinbad to the shade of a quaint wooden pagoda among the gardens. Judal hadn't really noticed until then, but there existed within the land a small alcove of a lake, which came up to the very edges of the pavilion. It looked nice.

"Now what are we supposed to do?" Judal asked, arms crossed, but now it was more for the warmth than the attitude. His hair stuck to his face and his braid hung cold and damp against his back, and his clothes were no protection at all. Judal was almost to the point of shivering, but that would just be too pathetic for him to bear, so he did his best to stand still despite the awful conditions.

Sinbad looked out from under the pavilion. "We wait, I guess. It should clear up soon."

Judal whined and came up beside Sinbad, watching out through the steady sheets of rain. The sky was still bright, with lots of bright clouds with silver linings, so the rain would obviously clear soon. Still, Judal was cold and uncomfortable, and trapped with Sinbad at an uncomfortably close proximity. He heaved a sigh.

"I'm freezing," Judal complained and shrank in on himself as he took a seat on the bench, arms hugged to his chest. "It doesn't rain this much in Kou."

"That's because we're on an island," said Sinbad with a chuckle as his eyes grew softer. "Are you cold? You can have this." He undid the upper shawl of his robe, the white cloth often thrown around his shoulders, and draped it over Judal. It was still cold, but it was warmer somehow, more thick and insulated.

Judal tried to pretend like he wasn't blushing as he hugged it around himself. "Thanks, I guess."

"Don't worry about it," said Sinbad as he sat near Judal on the bench. "I've been meaning to ask. Did you give my offer any thought?"

Judal's stomach sank. "Which one?"

"About staying here. And being Sindria's magi."

"Oh," he murmured. "That one." Judal sighed and hunched over, deep in thought and brooding over Sinbad's words. "Why should I stay?"

Sinbad didn't answer for a while, and it was almost obvious that he didn't know. It was that hero-complex again, the idea that he could save everyone—which he clearly couldn't, and some ridiculous idea that he could redeem Judal for all of his wrongdoings. It just wasn't realistic.

"No one will ever hurt you here," he began. "You can have whatever you want, as long as you promise not to hurt anyone and do your part." And then, softer, "I'll take care of you."

Judal tensed. "What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing," Sinbad shook his head with a nervous chuckle. "Just—have you thought about it?"

"Of course I have," Judal assured, brow creased. "How could I ignore such a big question?" Sinbad may as well have just asked Judal to marry him. It meant the same thing, to a magi. Judal sighed. "But I need more time. I can't give you an answer right away."

"How long do you need?"

"Uh…" Judal thought for a moment, then sighed. "Until Kougyoku comes back. I'll have made up my mind then." It was easiest that way, not to lend anyone a sense of false hope. At least he had the option this time, instead of just being ordered and commanded like he was used to. Judal sighed. "Thanks for…this, by the way."

"For what?"

"For everything," grumbled Judal with a sigh. "The hospitality, the offer. I dunno. You're just being…nicer than I'm used to."

"You know," began Sinbad with a tender look on his face. "I never meant to be cruel to you. And I don't blame you, Judal, for the things that you've done. Not anymore."

Judal stared at him for a long time, eyes opened just faintly wider, and then he let out a long breath of relief. "The rain stopped. Let's go back now."

Sinbad seemed to understand that he'd pried as much as Judal would allow, so he nodded and motioned to stand. "I'll show you the way."

Judal nodded and followed Sinbad out from the pavilion. Though the rain had stopped and the sun beat down warm upon their backs, Judal still wore the shawl over his shoulders. It was a gift from Sinbad, even if he did have hundreds of duplicates. It was still comforting to wear.

"Yeah, okay," Judal answered back. The whole world glistened damp and glowing as Judal fell into step alongside the King, but carrying on like this, Sinbad seemed in no hurry to arrive back at the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want Masrur and Sharr to date is that too much to ask


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took me so long, but here it is!! I honestly wrote most of this chapter on my phone while I was watching Christmas movies so I'll have to go back and edit the typos and italics and stuff later lmao (on that note I'm.. so festive around the holidays I gotta write a Christmas Sinju :,) )
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated!

Regardless of how warm Judal may or may not have felt with Sinbad's shawl over his shoulders, he was still freezing. The palace was cold and well-ventilated, and that was usually a blessing in the heat of the island, but now Judal felt anything but comfortable.

"What the hell happened to you two?"

Ja'far was there to greet them when they arrived back—arms crossed and features quirked into a scowl. His glare, though pacing between the both of them, settled primarily on Judal.

"We went skinny-dipping. Couldn't you tell?" Judal spat, rolling his eyes. Any bit of threat he might have usually posed was largely minimized by his own trembling in the cold. The picture looked very much like what one could imagine of a wet cat, though one would need to have a death-wish to ever suggest that.

"It rained," Sinbad clarified once he saw Ja'far's icy glare on Judal. "It wasn't that bad, though, so don't worry."

"Oh, I'm not worrying," huffed Ja'far. "You, Sin, have a meeting. I'm sure the foreign diplomats would love to hear how you and enemy number one have been splashing around in the rain!" He hissed, exasperated, and Sinbad chuckled anxiously from where he stood beside Judal.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

Ja'far shot Judal another dirty look, and Judal could only glower in response. "Hurry it up, Sin. Quit wasting your time like… this."

Sinbad let out a deep sigh as Ja'far walked away. "Don't worry too much about him, alright? He's just… protective."

"I can tell," Judal muttered to himself. "It's whatever. I don't care."

Sinbad gazed down at him without saying anything, like he could tell that Judal was lying, and sighed. "Maybe you should come to dinner again. It will be more formal tonight than it was last time, so you won't have to run around as much."

Judal shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

"Don't give me that," chided Sinbad, "you've hardly eaten a thing since you came here. You're coming to dinner. And maybe it'll give you a chance to talk more to the other generals, alright?"

Judal frowned. "Well, I—"

"So you're coming." Sinbad shot him a grin. "Good. I'll see you tonight, then."

"Idiot," Judal growled, "you can't just—"

"Make sure to dry off first. I don't need you getting sick now, too."

Judal was silent, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest, but when Sinbad looked at him with the sliver of hope in his eyes, with that unfamiliar kindness that made Judal question whether this was really the same King of Sindria he always knew, he knew that he couldn't argue.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Tonight, then."

Sinbad grinned at him, and at a muffled yell of 'hurry up, Sin!' from deep within the castle, he chuckled. "I'll see you later, Judal."

Sinbad's hand brushed against Judal's shoulder as he walked past, and Judal silently denied having felt his heart skip a beat.

 

* * *

 

Judal still thought that this was stupid. He thought a lot of things about Sinbad and his country were stupid, but the idea that he was to coexist and interact with generals who surely disliked him was too idiotic to comprehend.

He didn't think that they all hated him. Yamuraiha had been nice, and Sharrkan and Hinahoho at least had the decency to be polite to him. Judal knew that Ja'far hated him, but he didn't know where the other generals stood. None of the others had come to confront him yet, so it couldn't be that bad, right?

Judal sighed as he began to untie his braid—still damp from the rain—and paced around the room. It wasn't so bad, having to eat with the others, but Judal didn't want to know what they thought of him. He didn't want to hear their opinions of him; he knew that if they were negative, Sinbad would be disappointed. And now more than ever, Judal was a loose cannon, he could say anything at any time without really meaning to, but could still cause damage. He knew Sinbad wouldn't want that, and Judal didn't want to fail him. Though, he had already promised that he would attend, so there wasn't much he could do now.

He found the brush on the dresser and began to comb it through the length of his hair. It did get tiring, having to care for so much hair all the time, but Judal couldn't bring himself to mind. His long hair was something that he'd always treasured, as he had never really held anything dear in Al-Thamen; most things were taken away before he could grow attached. But his hair was the one thing he'd always had, from infancy to adulthood; it was his one real pride. Perhaps he should leave it unbound for the night; if he were going to meet the generals anyway, it couldn't hurt to show off a little.

At least there were more garments tucked into in his wardrobe when he made it back; which was better than having to choose between the same two things all the time (even if he favored the same outfit in Kou). He settled for something blue this time, shimmering in hues of cobalt, with a gold-trimmed choli and leg dress of a similar shade. He couldn't help but throw a layer of blue silk across his forearms—the scarring was too visible, and Judal didn't want to have to explain anything about that.

Judal swallowed hard and brought a careful hand up to caress his bruised throat. He really should've accepted the gold necklace when Sinbad offered to buy it at the bazaar—it was stupid to let his pride get the better of him. But still, hadn't he accepted enough from Sinbad? It would only make him seem greedy and spoiled to take anything more, and the gesture would give Ja'far even more to curse him for. Judal would just have to grin and bear his scars, and hope that no one would notice.

"You look pretty," Yamuraiha told him with a smile. "Sinbad will like it."

"I don't care what that idiot thinks about the way I look," insisted Judal, in a manner that strongly lacked conviction. Judal sighed, even after just moments of coming to the main hall when no one was even seated yet, his stomach was doing flips. He swallowed and tucked a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. "Where is he, anyways?"

"He'll be down in a minute. We usually wait for him to join us before we start," she explained. "You don't have to be so nervous, you know."

Judal guffawed. "I'm not nervous."

Her lips quirked into a knowing smile. "Well, that's good. You have no reason to be. The other generals are very kind," Yamuraiha assured.

"Yeah, but I'm not," he grumbled. "They'll take one look at me and know that I'm not like them."

"You and I get along though, don't we?" she asked, to which he tried to protest. "You're worrying too much. You'll be fine."

"I-" he sighed, "fine. Whatever." Judal had to make a good impression, either way. He couldn't afford to be sent back to Kou, not now, not when he knew what would happen to him if he dared to return. He couldn't stand the thought.

Judal felt a familiar touch graze against his lower back, and he whirled around to meet Sinbad's unusually warm gaze. "When did you get here?" Judal demanded.

"Just now," Sinbad risked a smirk, too calm and collected for the pace of Judal's racing heartbeat. "You look nice."

Sinbad said it so easily, as if the words weren't enough to make Judal crumble under his own weight. The idiot must've had absolutely no idea of what that meant to Judal, who had struggled with self-image for far too long to be healthy. To be told that he looked attractive was almost more than Judal could withstand, especially from Sinbad.

"I told you he'd like it," Yamuraiha whispered to him with a knowing simper, and Judal shot her a look before she left him alone with Sinbad. Judal almost felt betrayed by her absence.

"Thanks," he tried, turning back to Sinbad.

"Are you hungry?" Sinbad asked. "You've hardly eaten all day."

Judal shrugged. "Not really."

"Come on," Sinbad chided, "you've only eaten fruit since you got here. You should try some real Sindrian cuisine while you're here, right?"

 _While you're here_. The words crashed on Judal harder than they should have; that implied that he would leave eventually, if not soon, and Judal wasn't sure he could stand to go back to Kou as things were. Not that he really wanted to be here either, but he would rather die than go back. Nonetheless, he gave in with a hesitant nod. "Fine."

Seating himself was not quite so awkward as Judal imagined it might be. Sinbad must've sensed his discomfort, for when he took a seat at the table's head he offered for Judal to sit at his right. Yamuraiha was on his other side, and that was fine, but it forced Judal to be directly across from Ja'far's patronizing gaze, and that was something he could have done without.

"Do you drink, Judal?" Sinbad asked him off to the side. On most occasions, Judal would've declined the offer, knowing himself to be a poor drinker in the past. But to get through this night, Judal figured he was going to need a lot of alcohol, so he nodded and accepted the glass from a passing servant. He knew that he would be a wreck come morning, but Judal hardly cared about that as it was.

"I do now," Judal muttered as he threw his head back and took a long swig. It was probably a poor way to drink anything, but Judal wanted to be able to forget about all of this as soon as possible. "Thanks."

Sinbad stifled a chuckle. "You can't take all of that on an empty stomach. Eat something first."

"Eh. I can't eat all of that spicy stinking stuff," he complained, nose wrinkling. "It burns my tongue."

"Come on, at least try it."

With that, Sinbad took a spoonful of something from the table and held it up before Judal, and Judal paled at what was expected of him.

"You—You want me to eat it?" he managed, incredulity straining his voice. Sinbad must've been dense, trying to get Judal to eat right out of his hands at dinner, in front of all of his most trusted generals. Judal could feel his ears burning. "Right here?"

"Go on," the smirk was in his voice, and Judal could feel Ja'far's glare on the both of them. Sinbad was an idiot. Now, they were all going to think of Judal as some sort of pampered pet, and it wasn't as though he could blame them.

It wasn't like he could just leave him hanging, though. Judal swallowed whatever he had left of his pride and took the morsel between his teeth, and the burn to his tongue was instantaneous. Though, that hardly compared to the heat rushing to his cheeks as he sat back.

"Do you like it?"

"It's-It's fine," he managed, taking another long swig from the glass. "Just... Hot." Thankfully, most of the other generals had engaged in small conversation around the table, so no one really seemed to notice. Still, Judal could almost feel himself tearing up-what the hell did they put in this stuff? Were they trying to kill him?

Sinbad had to laugh. "Can't take the heat, huh?"

"He wouldn't know about any of that," Ja'far cut in, coal eyes narrowed, "with all those mild, delicate things he eats in the Kou Empire, right?"

Judal scowled back at him. "I can eat whatever I want." He reached for another spoonful, but Sinbad grabbed him by the wrist.

"Don't hurt yourself, you don't have anything to prove," Sinbad assured him. "There are other things for you to eat."

"But I want to fit in here." Judal drew back his hand with a grumble, "I feel so out of place as it is. I don't want to trouble you any more, or whatever."

"You're no trouble," Sinbad assured with a smile. "Don't worry about it. Right, Ja'far?"

He gave Ja'far an expectant look, who sighed in response. "I suppose."

"See?" Yamuraiha leaned in to whisper, "didn't I say you would be fine?"

"Whatever," Judal muttered, though he was given a bit of encouragement. Nothing had gone horribly wrong yet. Though, it almost felt like he was trying to impress the family of a lover. Glancing at Sinbad from the corner of his eye, Judal couldn't help but feel like it was an accurate description.

"So, Judal," began Sharrkan from where he sat beside Masrur. Sinbad seemed to stare at them almost too intently. "What do you think of Sindria so far?"

Judal swallowed. "It isn't so bad, I guess? I haven't been here long, but it's been alright."

"Coming from Judal, that's pretty high praise," Sinbad added, to which Judal rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess." Judal glanced over and briefly met the warmth pooling in Sinbad's golden eyes, then pulled his scarlet gaze away. "I like it so far."

"That's good," Sharrkan grinned back. "Say, what brings you here anyway? I never thought I'd see the day when you came to live in Sindria."

Judal stiffened. "Oh," he began, "well, uh-"

"Yeah, Judal," began Ja'far, leering closer. "Why are you here?"

Judal felt bile rising in his throat, and suddenly he felt incredibly nauseous. Whether that was from the curry or all of the eyes on him, Judal couldn't tell, but he knew that he couldn't just tell them, not in front of all of the generals, not when he was already breathing heavy. He couldn't bear to live with that shame.

"He didn't want to say anything and betray his nation, but there's been a lot of internal strife in Kou," Yamuraiha interrupted. "It's hardly safe for Judal anymore, so our King was kind enough to grant him safety here until things blow over. Isn't that right, Judal?"

"Uh, yeah," Judal managed, wide-eyed as he responded with a hesitant nod. "That's it."

"Oh, that makes sense," Sharrkan nodded in response. "I was just curious, is all."

"Keep your curiosity to yourself," Yamuraiha chided, "you don't need to ask such invasive questions!"

When Sharrkan shot back a snarky comment and the squabbling began, Judal was allowed a brief moment to breathe. Gratitude was something of which he didn't have a lot to spare, but he had a lot of it for Yamuraiha, especially after this. It was kind of her to divert the attention like that-Judal knew he couldn't have done the same, especially in that state-and he couldn't help but feel like he finally had someone he could trust.

"Are you alright?" asked Sinbad gently.

"I'm fine. I overreacted."

"No, you didn't. Is this something you want to discuss with me?"

"I don't know," he tried. "Later, maybe. I don't feel too great right now."

"That's fine," Sinbad smiled and allowed a hand to rest upon Judal's shoulder. "Tell me whenever you're ready."

Judal nodded slowly. "Okay. When I'm ready," he said, and even under Ja'far's piercing glare, just hearing himself say it made Judal feel better already.

 

* * *

 

Sinbad was almost surprised that the rest of the night went so well. Even with the high tensions between Ja'far and Judal, everyone was able to coexist remarkably well, a fact for which Sinbad was eternally grateful. And he knew that it meant a lot to Judal, who would always feel like the black sheep, but perhaps now he could feel better about the whole situation.

When Judal had finally eaten his fill (of mild foods, of course; his sensitivity to spice was almost endearing) and stood up to leave, though, it was not five seconds before his knees buckled and he crumbled right back to where he was before.

"Judal, are you alright?" Sinbad asked, up and at his side in an instant.

"I'm fine," Judal groaned. "I think it's the alcohol."

"He can't take rum either," Ja'far scoffed. "It'll be a miracle if he lasts a week."

Sinbad chuckled. For once, it was really strange to be the sober one, whilst Judal of all people was a drunken mess. It was oddly ironic. "Do you need some help getting upstairs?"

Judal didn't even try to argue. "Yeah."

Sinbad took him by the hand and helped him up, bidding the other generals goodnight as they left. Judal leaned onto his shoulder for support, though it would've been much easier if he'd just let Sinbad carry him.

"Are you sure you don't want me to carry you?" asked Sinbad when they reached the stairs. "I don't want you to fall."

"I'm fine," Judal insisted, but after he tripped over the first step, he didn't protest when Sinbad heaved him up into his arms and started up the stairs.

"You're strong. You must be really strong if you can carry me."

Sinbad chuckled. "You don't weigh much, so I don't mind."

Judal pouted, and Sinbad made a mental note to see Judal drunk more often. "I guess not."

"Do you like the generals?" Sinbad asked, and Judal hummed softly in response.

"They're all nice," he began, "except for Ja'far. I still think he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," assured Sinbad. "He's just protective."

Judal seemed bored. "It's okay, I've been through worse." Before Sinbad could ask anything else, Judal had taken to toying with a stray lock of Sinbad's lavender hair. "You have pretty hair."

Sinbad failed to bite back a laugh. Certainly, Judal in this intoxicated state was not something he ever wanted to miss. "So do you."

Judal giggled, so bubbly and unlike himself. It was so bizarre that just a few drinks could unravel Judal so completely, could make him into this demure and gentle figure, that Sinbad had to do a double take. It was somehow more fitting of his appearance, so physically angelic but so foul-mouthed in demeanor. This suited him more. "You're really nice, Sinbad."

They had made it back to Judal's private chamber by then, and Sinbad was almost taken aback by the statement. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"It's true, though." He paused to yawn as Sinbad laid him down on the bed. "You're always nice. You... You let me stay here, and you're always so kind to me, and you're always taking care of me, and I don't think I deserve that."

"What?" Sinbad sat down on the bed near him, and he didn't miss how tears began to well in Judal's eyes. "Why would you say that, Judal?"

"It's true." He curled in on himself. "I've done lots of bad things, you know. And even if everyone's forgiven me for it, I haven't. And I don't feel right about taking advantage of you like this."

"You're not taking advantage of me at all," Sinbad assured, eyes softened. "What's gotten you like this? Is it Ja'far? Should I talk to him?"

"No!" Judal protested, instinctively sitting up, followed by a groan as he put a hand to his head. He was clearly too drunk to be getting so excited like this. "Don't talk to anyone about it. I'm fine. I don't care that much, really."

"Alright, I won't say anything," Sinbad soothed, as he reached over to give Judal's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "But if someone's ever bothering you, just let me know. I'll take care of it."

Judal nodded slowly and lay back down, resting his head back upon the downy pillow. "I know you want me to tell you a lot of things, about what happened, but I can't yet. I don't think I'm ready to tell you."

"That's alright. There's no pressure, okay? Just tell me whenever you're ready, no matter how long it takes."

Judal hummed softly in response. "You really are too nice, Sinbad."

"You deserve kindness," Sinbad murmured in a low voice. "You've done some bad things, but I know that you're sorry, and I'm not going to punish you."

"Really?" Judal whispered, eyes wide. "I just-I just thought you were waiting for me to get better so you could punish me without feeling guilty."

"Never," said Sinbad. "No one will hurt you as long as you're loyal to me, not even Ja'far, I promise."

"And you won't hurt me?"

The question stopped him in his train of thought. There must have been so much hurt ingrained in Judal's mind over the years, so much pain and suffering, it only made sense for him to ask. Still, the thought made Sinbad's heart sink. "I would never do anything to hurt you. I couldn't punish you even if I wanted to."

Judal must've been too disoriented to piece that together, so he gave a sleepy nod. "Okay."

Sinbad smiled down at him. "Goodni-"

"Wait!" A hand shot out and latched onto Sinbad's wrist, and carmine eyes turned up at him. "Don't go. I don't want you to leave."

"What do you mean?"

"I just..." Judal chewed at his lower lip. "Just stay with me for a little while. Please? You don't have to stay all night, I know you wouldn't want to."

"Judal..."

"Just until I fall asleep," he tried, eyes pleading. "Please."

A part of him was almost nervous to accept the offer; Judal was so sweet and innocent when he was in this drunken state, and Sinbad would be a fool to tell himself that Judal was not attractive. Sinbad knew that he was tempted, and it was unfair to put Judal in that position when he was so naïve. But to turn him down would be worse, to see him cry or close himself off even more in the future. Sinbad would just have to restrain himself; if he couldn't do that now, he had no right to be anywhere near Judal.

"Alright," Sinbad sighed as he sat back down on the bed, but he couldn't hide a smile when the sorrow was wiped from Judal's features and he slipped beneath the layers of blankets, back facing Sinbad. It was much too hot in Sindria to sleep with so many sheets, but Sinbad figured that it gave Judal some security, since he never complained about them.

Judal looked somehow ethereal in the low light, with shadows cast onto his pallid features, and with the intensity of his crimson eyes hidden behind long lashes, there was no threat to him at all. Sinbad heaved a low sigh, watching intently as Judal's chest rose and fell with each breath. Even asleep, Judal seemed so vibrant and full of life, and just thinking of the things that he had been through made Sinbad feel sick. He couldn't help but long to take Judal away from all of that, to fantasize of a life with Judal here, as his magi-not just that, he wanted Judal to be _his_. The thought was too appealing to ignore.

Sinbad reached out a hand to card gently through Judal's long hair, hoping that the touch was light enough for him not to notice. Judal made a soft, fleeting murmur of appreciation as Sinbad combed his fingers through the soft strands, and Sinbad realized that he really liked this tender side of Judal. He would have to be sure to take care with this new information, that Judal went into such a state when he was drunk; it was something that could really be used against him, and the thought was truly concerning.

The door creaked just faintly as it opened-Judal didn't notice-and when Sinbad turned he very briefly caught a glimpse of Ja'far, just through the barest crack in the doorframe. He seemed more tired than cross, and after a moment of locked gazes, Ja'far sighed and let the door slip shut again. Sinbad let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in and Judal gave a soft murmur of "don't stop," and Sinbad felt his heart twinge as he obliged, toying gently with the ends of silken ebony strands. Judal was almost purring.

"Goodnight, Sinbad," murmured Judal softly as he curled into the sheets. There was really something special about Judal, as cliche as that may have sounded, but he wasn't like the others. Compared to the people Sinbad usually courted, there was something very different about Judal, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Sinbad's sigh faded into a smile. "Sleep well, Judal."

Really, Sinbad had meant to wait up for Judal, at least until he fell asleep. But before long, Sinbad found that he had drifted off beside him to the rhythmic rise and fall of Judal's breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> concept: judal is a fucking baby who can't take spicy foods or alcohol


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so this will probably be the last update of Melt before christmas because i want to get my sinju christmas fics ready by next sunday! (there are supposed to be two :,)) 2016 was a pretty bad year but all of the kind words and feedback i've received from all of you have really made it so much better. thank you all so much for your continued support, and i hope to write lots and lots next year too!
> 
> feedback is always appreciated! ♡

It had been a long, long time since Judal had woken up with a hangover. But the moment he felt himself rising to consciousness and noticed the aching throb in his temples, he sat up groaning with a hand pressed against his forehead. Typically, it was Sinbad who woke like this, or so Judal had assumed, since he'd never actually risen alongside the man, and he doubted that he ever would.

Only, when Judal opened his eyes, Sinbad was there, beside him, and worst of all—his clothes were strewn across the floor. Had he not been under the sheets, Judal was sure that he would've been naked. Judal suddenly felt a sickness in his stomach.

This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. Judal wasn't ready for that, not with Sinbad, not now and probably not ever, and he couldn't even remember whatever had happened between them—if anything had at all, but he was almost sure that it had. Sinbad was naked, and while Judal was not, that must've said something as it was.

This was exactly what Kougyoku had warned him about, these were all of the signs. And nothing had happened with them, that time, but it was the start of something terrible that had surely left its ugly mark on Kougyoku's memories. He should've listened to her. But, then again, it was Kougyoku who had brought Judal here to begin with, so her advice may not have been valid.

Sinbad stirred, and Judal, not knowing what else to do, threw a heavy pillow at his head (if there were any more lethal projectiles in the vicinity, he would have thrown that). "What did you do!?"

Sinbad's sleeping form intercepted the pillow with a moan of protest, and Judal, infuriated at his nonchalance, swatted the man hard to the back of his head. "Answer me, you fucking idiot!"

Judal tried to clear his head as Sinbad protested further, still half-asleep as he tried to sit up. Sinbad wouldn't touch him, he couldn't have, he wouldn't—that was too vile even for him, especially if Judal were too drunk to even remember. But if he did then Judal would really have no safe place to return—between here and Kou, there was nowhere he could escape. He was breathing heavy; Judal was sure that he was awake, but this was quickly becoming a nightmare.

"Ju…Judal?" Sinbad groaned, rubbing at where Judal had struck his head. "What's—?"

"You know what's wrong," Judal hissed. A part of him figured that Sinbad was probably innocent, but his irrational side had thrown him into a fit. Sinbad was just like all the others. Judal was an idiot to think that he could ever be different. "What did you do to me!?"

"I…What?" Sinbad slowly opened his golden eyes, then, and at the look on Judal's face, they shot open wide. "What happened? Why are you so upset?"

"You—You're naked, and here, and—just tell me what you did to me!"

Sinbad's features seemed to twist in recognition, and there was an "oh" of immediate understanding. "Judal, you have to understand, I didn't—"

"Don't lie to me, whatever this is, just tell me—"

"No, Judal, listen," Sinbad tried again, and put both hands on Judal's shoulders. "Breathe. I didn't touch you, just let me explain. Breathe."

Judal tried to slow his breath, and through his shuddering he managed to take one deep inhale and his shoulders stopped their shaking. "I…Okay," he tried in-between breaths. "Put something on first."

Sinbad took a moment to look down at himself, completely naked beneath the sheets pooled at his waist, and his eyes went huge. "Uh, yeah, just…let me find my robe."

Once he'd found the garment buried among the sheets and draped it haphazardly over himself (it hardly helped, but Judal felt comforted nonetheless) Sinbad turned back to Judal with a sigh. "Okay, I swear, nothing happened last night."

"What did happen, then?"

"You..." Sinbad trailed off, looking at Judal with confusion swimming in his eyes. "You don't remember?"

"Should I?"

"Well," stammered Sinbad, "I guess you were pretty drunk."

He had been drunk. Judal was beginning to remember that much, at least. He solemnly vowed never to touch a drop of alcohol ever again. "I knew that," Judal muttered, "but what happened after?"

Sinbad seemed awkward, and oddly out of touch with the suave demeanor he usually upheld. "You really weren't yourself."

Then it was Judal's turn to go red. Past experiences had led him to believe that he wasn't good with alcohol, but he had been younger then, so he should've been more tolerant now, maybe? He had hoped so, at least, but the way Sinbad's disposition shifted into one of mild amusement was not reassuring. "What did I do?"

"Nothing bad," Sinbad assured. "You were just different. You wanted me to stay with you until you fell asleep, but I guess I fell asleep before you did."

"Oh," said Judal. "That isn't too embarrassing."

"You also told me that I was really strong and that I have pretty hair."

Judal could have choked, and laughter glittered in Sinbad's eyes at the image. "I'm never touching alcohol again."

Sinbad chuckled at the rigidity of Judal's features, softened only by the blush dusting his cheeks. "It's okay, I didn't mind. Nothing happened though."

"Then why are you naked?" Judal spat back.

"Oh, that?" Sinbad coughed on a nervous laugh, reaching back a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "I don't usually sleep with any clothes on, it's too hot. Sometimes if I fall asleep while dressed, I'll just strip out of my robes during the night without noticing. At least, that's what I've been told." Judal tried not to go red. "Your friend Kougyoku should know about that, but that's probably not the best example."

Judal winced. "Probably not."

"I didn't touch you though, I swear," Sinbad insisted. "I just stayed with you, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I'm sorry if I alarmed you."

"Oh..." A shaky sigh fell from Judal's lips as the red cleared from his vision, and he finally felt like he was able to breathe again. Nothing happened, he assured himself. Sinbad wouldn't lie to him. Even if he had done bad things in the past, Sinbad wasn't a liar, and that was one thing that Judal could solidly count on. "Why did you stay with me when I asked?"

"Did you think I'd just leave you?"

"I wouldn't blame you," Judal grumbled. "I… I figured you'd have better things to do at night." For the barest hint of a second, Judal vividly remembered the night he'd found Sinbad with that woman, and it wasn't so much as that incident that bothered him but the fact that he knew it was a regular occurrence. Sinbad undoubtedly spent time with women, and that was just something Judal would have to learn to accept as his time here dragged on. It was something he would have to accept if he ever dared to take the position as Sindria's magi, for sure, and that wasn't something he knew he could withstand. Still, Judal hadn't seen Sinbad with many women since he'd been brought here, and that had planted the seed of hope in his mind.

"Nothing really," Sinbad reassured with a smile. "Besides, you're cute when you're like that."

Judal's shoulders went rigid. Surely this was not the Sinbad of all those years before, the one he'd known at a distance for so long and only this intimately (was it foolish to call this intimacy?) for a fraction of a second, just since that dance they had shared at the festival. That had seemed so long ago, but there was an undeniable shift in that night in the way Sinbad had looked at him since then. Even so, Judal had been called many things, but cute was never one of them. Maybe by Kougyoku if she was feeling especially sentimental, or by a doting servant, but that had never been one of his traits. Judal huffed and looked away. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sure I'd agree with you if I could remember any of it."

Sinbad's rasp of a laugh came after, and their close proximity allowed the warmth of his breath to just tickle Judal's skin. "As much as I'd like to see that again, I think we'd better keep you away from the rum for a while, wouldn't you agree?"

Judal nodded weakly. "Believe me, never again."

There was another scoff of laughter, and Judal didn't notice the smile that began to curve his own lips. "With your sharp tongue, I thought you could handle any of our spices, but you couldn't even take a bit of rum. Is there anything that you can actually eat?"

"Shut up," Judal spat back, but his words held more mirth than venom. "I like sweet things. Like fruits and pastries. Oh, and chocolate."

"A bit mild, for your reputation." Judal shot him a look, though Sinbad's softened features made his good intentions clear. "That's something I'll keep in mind for later."

"Good," Judal retorted, though touched by the gesture. It was strange to think about, and although nothing had ever really happened between them (at this rate, Judal doubted it ever would) there was something nice about being here with Sinbad, bathed in the glow of the early morning sun and light-hearted conversation. It almost felt like pillow talk, even if that was something Judal had never experienced, but he never felt this relaxed in Sinbad's vicinity. There was something different about actually waking up beside the man and getting to see this side of him, and Judal didn't hate that. He tried to hide his blush. "I don't think I could take that again anytime soon."

"Well, now we know for next time, right?"

There was meaning layered behind the words, the unspoken request for Judal to stay, to know that he was welcomed here, and Judal managed a nod. "Yeah. For next time."

In a moment of brief silence, Judal spoke up again. "Sorry by the way, I didn't mean to accuse you of anything this morning, I—"

"Don't apologize. I don't blame you for being upset." When Sinbad brought a hand to rest at his shoulder, Judal did not wince as he had before, and the bruising felt lighter somehow, so that he barely noticed any pain. "Still, Judal, I'm worried about you."

"About me?" Judal scoffed, burying the layers of nervous anticipation inside himself. "Why?"

"Well… Aside from the fact that I could've sworn I heard you yelling in your sleep," Judal tensed at the mention, "you seemed very upset when you saw me this morning. Is there something—"

"You were hearing things. I don't talk in my sleep, and I haven't dreamt in years," Judal answered quickly. "And as for that, I was just… caught off guard. Don't worry about it."

He motioned to shift off of the bed, but Sinbad's hand held at his wrist, firm enough to hold him but sensitive to his tender bones. "You know, you can tell me anything. There's no pressure, but… I won't judge you. You know that, right?"

There was something so earnest about his tone that Judal felt his guard lowering, and he hated to be this vulnerable, but Sinbad had always known well how to unravel him. Judal looked away. "I dream sometimes, I guess."

"About what?" Sinbad prodded gently.

Judal took a deep breath. "I mean, there are lots of things, but…" there was another deep inhale. "Do you remember that time when… when the baby magi showed me my memories?"

"Of course I remember," said Sinbad with an encouraging smile. "You cried and then laughed when I pitied you."

Judal rolled his eyes with a snort, but his anxiety failed to recede at the playful comment. "Yeah, yeah. Well… I guess I've had more memories, since then. It's all coming back, and I don't know why it's coming back so fast, but I've seen a lot more of my village in my dreams. At least, I think that's what it was?" Judal sighed and shook his head. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this. I can stop, if you want—"

"No, don't stop," Sinbad nodded expectantly. "Keep going."

"…fine, okay." Judal sighed and took another long, slow breath. "I just… They all seemed real nice, you know? Real peaceful and everything, and I just… I know that they'd hate me if they could see me now. I know they would, if they saw the kind of person I am now. I could've had that life, Sinbad, but then that horrible woman just had to take it all away from me, she's the reason they hurt me so bad, that fucking woman is the reason they touched me and tainted me and _ruined_ me—"

"Judal, listen to me." The voice was low and soothing, and Judal hadn't noticed when Sinbad had reached over to grasp his hand, but his grip was warm and reassuring, rubbing methodic circles into his palm. "What they've done to you... That doesn't define who you are."

"But it does," Judal shot back. "What they did changed me, and I can't go back after that. I'll never get to be innocent and kind like my village would have wanted me to be, and everyone knows that. I see the way Ja'far looks at me and I know he thinks I'm a monster, and everyone else does too."

"Judal, they manipulated you," Sinbad tried again. "And you've done bad things but I know that you're trying. And for what it's worth, nothing bad to you will ever happen while you're here, I swear it. I'll do everything in my power to protect you."

Judal scowled up at him. "I-I don't need protection," he hissed, but then, in the same breath, "just don't send me back."

"Where? To Kou?"

"Yeah," Judal whispered. "Please don't send me back. I can't go back, you can't send me back, Sinbad."

"Then I won't." Sinbad's eyes were like swirls of honey, soft and filled with warmth, and Judal sucked in a breath at the sight of them. "Stay here for as long as you need. You're always welcome here."

Judal tried to nod and believe it and accept the words as true, but his stomach was doing flips on itself. He never should've showed anyone this side of him, but the damage had been done, and now Sinbad knew. "Do you trust me, Sinbad?" He asked under his breath, the same question he'd asked just under a week ago, but the nervousness was still there, plain as ever.

"I trust you," he answered, quicker this time, and Judal felt his heart swell. "I know that you are doing the best you can."

"I..." Judal swallowed. "I won't do anything to hurt you or anyone here, you have to know that by now, right?"

"I wouldn't trust you if I didn't know that." Sinbad smiled and Judal huffed and looked away. "I care about you, Judal, and I can see that you're trying your best. I think everyone can, even Ja'far-though he won't admit that."

"Yeah," Judal scoffed, "right."

"He's trying too, you know, even if it might not seem that way. I want you two to get along, eventually at least. My most trusted advisor and my..."

Sinbad seemed to lose track of where he was going, and Judal egged him on. "And your what?"

"...my future magi," Sinbad finished with a smug look, and Judal rolled his eyes.

"Potentially."

"Right."

Judal wasn't even sure that he could perform magic anymore, at least, not the way that he used to. With each passing day, the black taint of his rukh swam further and further away. While he was too ashamed to count them now, hardly any darkness remained in his cloud of rukh, and the thought worried him. He needed to actually get a new wand before he wasted time thinking about any of this, though. There was no point otherwise. "I think I need to go and clear my head."

"That's fine," Sinbad nodded in understanding. "This must've been a lot for one day. Don't skip breakfast, alright?"

Judal hummed in agreement as he slipped out of bed, still in his clothes from the night before and looking rather disheveled. Had he really spent the whole morning talking to Sinbad while he looked like this? Judal absentmindedly combed fingers through his hair, nervous and apprehensive, but he managed to nod. "Oh, and can I have a new wand?"

"What?" Sinbad asked, "what happened to your old one?"

"It's broken," he shot back, arms crossed over his chest. "Gyokuen ruined it, and I can't do anything without one."

"I'll see to it right away," Sinbad assured. "A magi should never be without his wand."

"Yeah, something like that," Judal answered, combing a hand through his hair. "Later," he tossed back, and slipped out the door before he could wait for a reply.

The second he was out, Judal could only lean back against the door, too weak at the knees to go any further. This was a side to Sinbad that he hadn't really seen before, and sure, the man was reasonably understanding most of the time, but he had never been so easy to talk to. He was kind and listened well, and he knew how to make Judal feel at ease just by his presence alone.

Judal sighed; was he a fool to believe in basic human decency, to reveal all of his deepest secrets before a man who hardly cared? Years he had spent building this persona for himself, becoming a person who was both immovable and untouchable in every sense of the word. But, if it was for Sinbad, Judal could finally let down his guard for once. With a growl of agitation, he shook his head and swatted back a flurry of his own pink, fluttering rukh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kind of a short chapter, but the ending seemed natural so i didn't want to push it uwu i'll try to update before the new year, and the latest i'll be is new years day! happy holidays everyone! ♡


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no formatting we post from mobile like men
> 
> im really gonna try to stick to my schedule for the new year!! im going back to updates every sunday from now on!! 
> 
> also! this story is at.. about the halfway point now? its gonna end at around 100k/25 chapters, at least that's the goal?? so im really excited!! i can't wait to write more of this story in 2017!
> 
> feedback is much appreciated ♡

"Do you think that Judal will like it?"

"He'll love it," said Sinbad with a grin, handling the fine golden wand in his hands. "You've really outdone yourself, Yamuraiha." Truly, she had spared no expenses in the fine detail to the hilt, curving and coiling around the metal wand in a series of intricate patterns and swirls. It was fine and delicate and beautiful, and for a moment, Sinbad was reminded of Judal in its aspect.

"I hope so," Yamuraiha said with a smile, sparing a moment to admire her own handiwork. "He should've told me sooner that he didn't have a wand! I would've made one right away... with your blessing, of course. This week must've been torture for him."

Sinbad sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I know, I wish he had told me... I guess it just takes him a while to open up."

Yamuraiha nodded, and set the wand down carefully on the tabletop. "I'm sure it's hard for him, after everything. That was a great idea you had too, to use his old jewelry as material; I'm sure he'll love it even more now!"

"I still don't understand why we're giving him a wand," Ja'far cut in, eyeing the thing with something like suspicion in his coal black eyes. "He's hardly been here a week. Shouldn't we decide whether he can be trusted first?"

"I trust him," assured Sinbad. "And besides, if he tries anything, we'd be able to stop him. If our eight generals couldn't manage to defeat a poor ailing magi, then I'd have little hope for the future of this kingdom."

"Judal is neither poor nor ailing," said Ja'far with a long sigh, "but alright. We'll see."

Sinbad cracked a smile. "Why don't you go and bring him here for us? Maybe it'll give you two a chance to bond."

"Oh," Ja'far paused to roll his eyes, "definitely."

Sinbad chuckled. "Be nice, he is trying. And don't tell him about the wand, okay? I want this to be a surprise."

There was another long sigh, but Ja'far turned nonetheless. "Fine. But I hope you know what you're doing, Sin."

Sinbad met him with a smile. "I'm sure of it."

* * *

Judal hadn't seen Sinbad for the remainder of that evening, after the morning spent together, and he supposed that was for the best--he needed the time to think, and reasonably, Sinbad probably did too. Judal had revealed far too much personal information about himself, too much for a day at least, and a part of him didn't want to face Sinbad after that.

There was a knock at his chamber door, and for the barest of seconds, Judal felt his stomach tighten. Of course, Sinbad would have a lot to talk with him about, that was to be expected, but that didn't mean that Judal wanted to discuss those matters again any time soon.

When Judal took too long to reply, the door hesitantly slid open, and rather than Sinbad awaiting him, it was Ja'far. Judal only felt worse at the revelation. "Oh, good. You're here."

Judal raised an eyebrow. "You're glad that I'm here?"

Ja'far let out a 'tsk.' "Don't be difficult. Sinbad asked me to go and get you, so hurry up."

"What does he want?"

Ja'far paused, and then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I've been instructed not to tell you. He says it's a... surprise."

A surprise? Judal couldn't think of a single thing that Sinbad could surprise him with, not recently, at least. With every ridiculous thing that had happened to him in the past week, Judal did not think he could feign shock particularly well. "A surprise? What is it?"

"Well, if I told you, that would defeat the purpose," said Ja'far, and Judal huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine." Judal rolled his eyes. "I'm coming."

As he followed the man, the silence shared with Ja'far was undeniably uncomfortable. Ja'far must've really hated him now, now that Sinbad was making him run petty errands on Judal's behalf. Judal was silently counting the days until Ja'far finally had enough with his antics and decided to do away with him altogether; Judal wouldn't put it past him. Ja'far was aggressive when it came to things like that, wasn't he? He would eliminate a close ally if a threat were posed to Sindria, and Judal was neither close nor an ally. For a moment, Judal silently longed for his wand, the one thing that could protect him at times like these, but still he remained powerless, and he hated it.

Ja'far motioned for him to enter Yamuraiha's chamber, a setting that Judal had grown to know well following days of rigorous treatment. The subject of his scarring was still a notion of great distress for Judal, as his skin was still a mosaic of uneven tone and blemishes, despite Yamuraiha's diligent work. Of course there was some improvement, and the sight was no longer so much an eyesore as it was obvious, but there was doubt as to whether they would ever fade entirely. Judal took a deep breath at the thought, shook his head, and followed Ja'far in through the door.

"Judal!" Sinbad began as he approached, grin broad as he set a hand on Judal's shoulder. "I'm glad you're here. How are you feeling, after the other night?"

Judal's cheeks tinged pink. "I'm fine. It was nothing." It was embarrassing, and Judal would rather never think on the night ever again. "Why am I here?"

"Ah," said Sinbad, with a sparkle in his eye. "Yamuraiha and I wanted to give you something. I think that you've proved yourself more than enough, and you've deserved this for a long time now."

"Deserved what?"

Yamuraiha came forward then, with something small and golden laid across her palms. When she was close enough, Judal's eyes grew wide at the sight: a delicate, golden wand shimmered against her pale hands, very much likened to his ruined silver one, right down to the glinting red jewel, differed only by the metal's color. Judal was frozen, gazing down upon it, at the one thing he'd longed for and depended upon for what felt like an eternity. Judal had felt like a part of him was missing, when he was without his wand, without the power he had when it was with him; he just wasn't himself. But now, everything felt right again.

"You got me a wand?" He asked, voice nearly to the point of breaking. "How--When did you find the time? And on such short notice, I only told you yesterday--"

"Don't worry about it," said Yamuraiha, smiling broad at him. "As soon as Sinbad told me, I knew I had to do this for you. It wasn't hard to make, so don't think you're imposing."

"That's..." Judal managed, throat tightening, "that's really..."

"Sinbad had the idea to melt down your old golden bracelets to make it," Yamuraiha added. "We both felt bad to have to take them from you like that, so now you'll have them with you all the time!"

As much as he tried, Judal didn't know what to say. He'd always been grateful for the both of them, but Judal had never been able to vocalize those feelings; it was never his strong suit. But this was a gesture he couldn't take for granted, no matter how he tried to bury his gratitude. "Thank you, both of you."

Sinbad squeezed Judal's shoulder, smiling warmly down at him. "Why don't you try it out?"

"Alright," said Judal, and the smile that formed on his own lips was like magic. Judal outstretched a hand to grasp it, but when his fingers grazed the metal, something harsh jolted against his fingertips and he quickly drew his hand back.

"What the hell was that?" hissed Judal, massaging his tender palm in an effort to soothe the burn.

"What was what?" asked Yamuraiha, oblivious and unaffected by whatever seemed to have shocked him. It was definitely strange, but Judal had no reason not to trust any of the people in this room (except perhaps for Ja'far, who watched silent and aware from behind them), so he shook his head with a sigh.

"It's nothing," he decided, "I'm probably just not used to it yet." Shaking off his stinging hand, Judal sucked in a breath and reached out to take the wand into his grasp, and this time when the metal stung his hand he ignored it, and he bit back a cry as the pain shot through his arm. By then, Judal had figured out that something was very wrong, but the wand was like a magnet to his skin, fingers curled tight around its hilt, and there wasn't much he could do to free himself. Judal held on, even as spots clouded his vision and his knees went weak, and he vaguely felt Sinbad rush forward to catch him as everything faded to black.

* * *

"Dear god, what happened to him?" Judal lay still in Sinbad's arms, who could only stare in wide-eyed shock down at him. Sinbad couldn't imagine what had gone so horribly wrong--the material of the wand was hardly foreign to him, Judal had worn the bracelets for years and been fine. He couldn't possibly comprehend what had affected Judal so greatly.

Yamuraiha, with equally wide eyes, didn't seem to understand any more than Sinbad did. "Can you bring him to the bed, Sinbad?"

Sinbad's body moved without him telling it to, heaving Judal and his wiry frame (he'd probably lost weight, since coming to Sindria, Sinbad noted silently; they'd have to fix that soon) up into his arms, resting the doll-like figure gently against the bed. This wasn't the same Judal of years ago, or even months or weeks ago, at least not to Sinbad. Perhaps there had always been something inside of him like this, but Sinbad had never know it. He had known only the brash and abrasive exterior that Judal had always held, never the softness of his unconscious features, never those gentle, trembling smiles he'd cast when he was awake. This was a very different Judal than the one that had been provoking him for as long as he could recall, but this probably wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

"What happened?" asked Ja'far, and Sinbad almost startled when the man was behind him--he hadn't heard him coming, but he supposed stealth was in the nature of an assassin. "Is he..."

"Dead? Don't get your hopes up," Sinbad teased, and Ja'far met him with a glare.

"I don't hate him that much." It was hardly a convincing argument.

"He isn't dead," assured Sinbad, watching carefully the subtle rise and fall of Judal's chest. "But I'm worried... I don't know what possibly could've happened." Sinbad gently brushed Judal's dark bangs back from his resting eyes, with his own gaze softening at the way Judal seemed to squirm just so, and Ja'far sighed audibly from beside him.

"Your heart is too soft," Ja'far scoffed, but there was no real venom behind it. "Put a peach under his nose and he'll wake like nothing ever happened."

Honestly, it wasn't a bad idea. Before Sinbad could agree, Yamuraiha came forward with a pouch of ice. "Put this on his burnt hand, alright? I'll be back in just a moment."

Sinbad took it, and overturned Judal's pale hand, inflamed with patches of pink but nothing too severe, a fact for which he was relieved. Judal would've hated burns, Sinbad thought, pressing the ice against the slim fingers. Ice had always been Judal's specialty--Sinbad knew all too well, from the attacks against him--it was almost ironic that he couldn't produce it himself, now. Once they figured out what in him had reacted so poorly to the wand Sinbad would have to get him a new one, it was almost painful to watch the way Judal fidgeted and suffered without access to his precious magic.

"You really care for him, don't you?" asked Ja'far, watching intently the way Sinbad tended to Judal. "Even after everything."

"I do," Sinbad affirmed, but it would take a blind man not to know that. "There's something so different about him now, I can't blame him for all of those things back then, can I? And he's trying so hard..."

"You let your feelings blind you, Sin."

"I know." With his free hand, Sinbad took to gently stroking Judal's long, loose hair; he hardly tied it up anymore, now that he was in this country. Sinbad thought that it would keep him too hot in Sindria's tropical climate, but he looked softer when his hair was down, not as harsh nor threatening, and it certainly added something to his androgynous physique.

"Judal is the sort of person that you should write those ridiculous fantasies of yours about," Ja'far went on, and Sinbad tried not to take offense at 'ridiculous', "not take as a life partner. Besides, he'll be gone back to Kou soon anyways, won't he?"

Sinbad remained silent for a moment, inwardly debating whether to reveal his intentions, but Ja'far must've already keyed in from the hesitation. "Sin. What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"You're lying."

"Okay, fine. I asked him to stay here as our magi."

Sinbad didn't have to look to tell that Ja'far was seething. "You did what?"

"Sindria has been in need of a magi for some time now! It's been years, Ja'far!"

"Do you know how long a magi lives for, Sin?" Ja'far hissed, "Reim's magi is almost three hundred years old! Sindria will be stuck with this one for an eternity!"

"I don't think that's so bad. Judal caused a lot of trouble, but he was a good magi for Kou. He made a lot of powerful candidates, I'm sure he'd do an excellent job here."

"That's... not the point." Ja'far sighed. "You don't want him for a magi. You want him for yourself. I can see it in your eyes, he's been here what, a little more than a week? And I can already see you planning a wedding in your head."

"That's not entirely true," Sinbad argued, albeit weakly. "Aside from his obvious qualifications, I just want the chance to get to know him better. And to be there for whatever comes after." Though Ja'far did have a fair point, it was hard to deny that seeing Judal in red, the color of marriage in this kingdom, had given him some dangerous thoughts.

"Sin, please--"

"I think I've figured out what's wrong with Judal," said Yamuraiha, bursting back into the room, with Judal's golden wand--rendered useless--dangling from her fingertips.

Sinbad was quick to face, still careful to keep his hold on Judal's cold, iced hand. "Really? What is it?"

"Well..." She began with a sigh. "It has to do with how we used his old bracelets. That wasn't ordinary gold."

"Ordinary gold?" Ja'far asked, "what do you mean?"

"It must've been charmed, or under some sort of magic. Al-Thamen must've done it to him without him knowing about it."

Sinbad looked back to Judal, who still had yet to rise, so peaceful and unaware. It must've been torture, to live so long under the organization's total control, more than anyone possibly could have surmised. "Charmed how?"

Yamuraiha heaved another sigh as she approached, joining them at Judal's side. "It must have to do with his rukh, that's all I can think of. He still had his own thoughts and feelings, but the bracelets were designed to block out the light rukh and keep the dark ones, so it forced him into depravity and kept him from coming out of it."

"Forced him into depravity..." Ja'far said slowly, and Sinbad's chest tightened at the thought.

"How can you be sure, Yamuraiha?"

"I did my best analysis on the metal. We can ask Judal for more details when he wakes up, but it probably affected his memory of that time too. I'll bet that's why his nightmares were so vivid when he took off the bracelets."

It certainly made sense, once Sinbad thought about it. Judal had never quite seemed like a bad person, though he did do bad things, and it always seemed as though an invisible wall had prevented him from functioning normally in society. To think, Al-Thamen had controlled him on such a deep and personal level; it made Sinbad's chest ache.

Ja'far's question cut off his train of thought. "But why did he faint, then? He wore them for this long, didn't he?"

"I... I'm not quite sure myself," said Yamuraiha, resting the useless wand on the table behind her. "I think it may have to do with the fact that his body is purged of black rukh now, so the sheer force of it must've been too much for him. That, and you can't cast magic from an enchanted item."

"I see," said Sinbad after a while, features softening as his gaze settled on Judal. Ja'far was silent beside him, frowning as though he were lost in thought, and Sinbad spoke up again. "He'll be alright now, won't he, Yamuraiha?"

"Judal will be fine, don't worry," she affirmed. "I highly doubt that there was any lasting damage to his body from just one incident."

Sinbad exhaled a breath of relief. "I'm glad. I never should've suggested to use his bracelets in the first place."

"No, I think it's good that you did," she assured. "If you hadn't then we never would've known the truth. Maybe now it'll be easier for him to fit in here, and he won't have to shoulder so much blame for everything that's happened."

"I suppose you're right," Sinbad sighed, and his fingers found their way back to Judal's hair, brushing the dark strands back from his peaceful expression. "But I never wanted to hurt him."

Yamuraiha smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Judal will forgive you. He really cares for you, you know."

Sinbad smiled in spite of himself, risking a soft chuckle. "Does he, now?"

"Oh, definitely. Though, you probably should've noticed that by this point."

Sinbad gave a nervous laugh as he studied Judal's features. "I guess you're right." It was a challenge, sometimes, to differentiate between what Judal said and what he really meant, and Sinbad hadn't been very good at that for quite a while. Now, though, he'd learned how to read Judal better, he learned what the subtle gestures meant, the intonation in his words; it was all clearer now than it had ever been before. Sinbad had long suspected Judal's feelings for him, but if what Yamuraiha said was true, perhaps he should have paid a bit more attention.

Strangely enough, when Sinbad glanced behind him Ja'far was nowhere to be seen, though he had been there only a moment ago. "Did you see where Ja'far went?"

"I didn't even notice he left," said Yamuraiha, casting a glance across the room. "Should I wait with Judal while you go look for him?"

"No, that's alright, he probably wanted some time alone. And besides," he went on, lightly squeezing Judal's iced hand. "I want to be here when he wakes up, so I can apologize."

A smile came upon Yamuraiha's features. "Of course, take as long as you need. I'm sure he will appreciate it."

Sinbad risked a smile. "I hope so."

* * *

"Ow, what the fuck?" were Judal's first words as he came to consciousness, holding a hand to his head with a hiss as he noticed a soreness in his palm. Recollection of the earlier events came slowly flooding back, but his memory was still cloudy and he couldn't help but groan. "What happened?"

"You're finally awake," came a relieved voice at his side, and Judal sat up to find Sinbad kneeling beside him.

"Finally?" he asked, "how long was I out?"

"A few hours, maybe," said Sinbad as he rose to his full height. "I was starting to get worried."

Judal gave a "hmph" as he sat rolled to an upright position. "I guess it was just a matter of time before you tried to kill me."

"Judal--"

"Kidding, kidding," Judal waved his hands with a wry smile. "But--ah!" he hissed again when he put his burnt hand flat on the bed and the fabric rubbed hard against it. The damage wasn't quite visible when he turned over his palm, but Judal could feel the soreness from where he'd grabbed the wand, could just see the red patterning where it has singed his skin, and he sighed. "What happened, Sinbad?"

Sinbad heaved a long sigh, raking a hand through violet hair. "I... I'm sorry. I told you that I would take care of you, I never wanted to hurt you like this."

Judal's features softened. "I was never mad at you, idiot. Just tell me what happened."

"Alright, alright," Sinbad conceded, and seated himself on the space beside Judal on the bed. "You know how we made the wand from your bracelets, right?"

"Yeah, you told me."

"I... Well, Yamuraiha found out that it was more than just a collar. Al-Thamen, they charmed your jewelry so that you couldn't function properly or let the white rukh influence you."

Judal seemed to grow even paler. "What? What do you... What do you mean?"

"Judal..." Sinbad's features softened and he took Judal's hand into his own, and Judal didn't wince when his fingers grazed a burn. "They've been poisoning you for your years. What happened to you, that wasn't your fault."

Judal's shoulders tensed and his hold on Sinbad's fingers tightened, just barely so. "No... No, I--I killed people, I ruined lives, and that was my doing. No one else's."

"You couldn't think straight," Sinbad insisted, "the blood is on your hands, but this wasn't all your fault, Judal. You couldn't have stopped the things they forced you to do."

"No," Judal begged, eyes glassy and chest heaving, "that can't be right, there's no way..."

Sinbad's fingers grazed against his cheek and Judal's breath hitched. "You can't blame yourself forever, Judal. They did this to you, they forced you into depravity, they stained your rukh black. It wasn't your fault."

"It was my fault! I was in control, I was the manipulator, I was the one who ruined lives, and I laughed about it! I'm not the victim here!"

Judal couldn't take much of this anymore. His head hurt, his heart hurt, he couldn't bear to think of this for much longer. But what Sinbad had said was true--Al-Thamen had manipulated him, had taken advantage of his skill as a magi, of his rukh, of his ability to change fate, and it hurt more than anything. When Judal dared to look up at Sinbad, there was no pity this time, this was something different. This was something softer and warmer, and when Sinbad pulled Judal into his embrace, Judal didn't resist the touch.

"Regardless of what you may or may not have done," he began, fingers stroking gently through Judal's hair, "I forgive you."

Judal was silent for a moment, and then he managed a soft, tearful laugh. "Stupid," he sobbed, and Sinbad held him tight as Judal hid his face in Sinbad's chest. "Th-That's the first time anyone's ever said that to me..."

"You deserve it," said Sinbad, and Judal felt the warmth in his voice, reverberating through his chest and diaphragm, and his own heart warmed. "I forgive you," he said again, and Judal could no longer hold back his cries.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna stick to my update schedule so bad I put it as a New Years resolution so I gotta :')
> 
> Please enjoy the chapter, and any feedback is always appreciated!

Of course, Yamuraiha had later promised Judal that she would craft a new wand for him. This one, she assured, would be suited perfectly to his skills, with extensive detail spared to his tastes. He had nodded and thanked her, of course, but when his fingers burned and his chest ached with the memory of Sinbad's words, Judal wasn't quite looking forward to his restored magic as much as he would've liked.

The royal baths in Sindria were extravagant, to say the least. Judal, who was typically eager to flaunt the expanse of his fair skin, had felt unusually modest as of late. It went without saying that he preferred the private baths, but as he had been informed, they were being renovated-(and for what? they were stupidly extravagant already) but Judal desperately needed to relax after the excitement of the day prior.

Judal sighed, toeing the surface of cool water from where he stood at its edge. At the very least, he was alone, and as such his rarer side came to light, the dip of relaxed shoulders, the softness of his rigid mouth, fluidity drawn into his every move as he eyed the water before him. He let out another breath, long and slow, and the embroidered robe slipped off of pallid shoulders to pool at his feet by the pool's edge. As he lowered himself into the cool water, felt it soak into his aching bones with a soft hum of relaxation, Judal could only hope that no one would find him like this.

There was always a certain closeness to the rukh felt when Judal slipped into the water, something that wasn't quite there when he was out of it. Judal was of a fiery disposition, and as such one might expect his affinity to lay in something more lethal. Perhaps heat or strength or lightning would be more suited to his ways, but it was the water that responded to him best, and though he concealed it in shards of ice there was still water within, no matter how he tried to deny it.

It was quiet here, and peaceful, and it certainly gave Judal time to think as he soaped his skin and hair. Judal had always thought of himself as hardened, as a creature of malice-and it was easier that way, for a time. But after the vision at Balbadd, after this, that was beginning to change. His heart was fluttering again when he thought of Sinbad, thought of his kind words and soft gestures, thought of the way Sinbad held him and stroked his hair and looked at him with those gentle, loving eyes. Surely, if a man of such caliber could look at Judal like that, there was something in him worth saving after all.

He finally rose up out of the water, the white marble of his torso glistening with rivers of droplets across his chest. Judal knew it was dangerous to think of such things for so long, and he'd wasted enough time for a day. In the midst of these thoughts, a soft moan echoing in the cavern made him tense, and it seemed now that he hadn't been alone after all.

Perhaps, looking back, Judal should've ignored it and escaped while he had the chance. But a part of him was intrigued by the suggestive sounds that echoed from deeper in the bathing hall, behind a maze of low walls that Judal had never dared to venture behind. Curiosity was far greater than rational thought, now, as Judal came from the pool and slid the dark silk robe on over his pale shoulders. Surely, it couldn't hurt just to have a look.

The moans grew louder, and Judal's blush grew deeper as he came closer, stepping carefully with bare feet against the cold tile. It was a foolish risk to take-curiosity killed the cat, after all-but these were the men's baths, and if such illicit acts took place here, wouldn't that be reserved for the men as well? Judal was likely out of his place to snoop around, but he might've felt a bit better to find out that he was not the sole person in this palace to fancy the same sex.

"You're too gentle," came the breathless murmur, muffled by the walls but reverberating still through the chasms of the baths. "I thought making love to a fanalis was supposed to be..."

"Painful?"

"...more fun," the first voice finished, and Judal was sure that his whole face had shot up red.

There was a scoff. "I'd like for you to walk tomorrow. We are running out of excuses." And then, softer, "I don't want to hurt you."

There was a pause and a gasp, and then a breathless "kiss me," and all conversation stopped.

If Judal were not so red-faced as it was, he might've been touched. But he knew those voices. Maybe it was just the echo, or maybe he just hadn't been here for long enough to put the names to the faces, but it just hadn't clicked. And then, when he gathered the courage to look just so from behind the tiled wall and caught a glimpse of red and white, bodies intertwined, Judal turned on his heel and escaped with as much grace as he could manage-

-which, in his haste, amounted to catching his heel in a puddle of water, and so he slipped and landed with a loud, indignant curse.

"What was that?" whispered Sharrkan, to which Judal got up and ran (successfully, this time) out from the chamber.

* * *

"I was wondering where you went yesterday."

"I had work to do."

Ja'far was busy filing papers again, as he always was, but now he seemed especially preoccupied. If Sinbad looked closely enough, there were dark circles under his eyes, and the mountain of papers that cluttered his desk had been far diminished from what it was the day before.

"Have you been working all night?"

Ja'far didn't even look up. "I had a lot to think about."

Sinbad raised an eyebrow. "What have you been thinking about?"

Ja'far was quiet for a moment, as though trying to consume himself in his work, and then he sighed, set the quill down and finally looked up to face Sinbad. "Do you think that I am too hard on the magi?"

"I suppose," said Sinbad, "but I'm probably a little biased. What's got you thinking about all of this?"

Ja'far sighed. "I am not well acquainted with feelings of guilt, particularly not with people like him."

"So that's why you left yesterday?"

"No," said Ja'far, "I was not guilty then. I was confused. But after I thought about it for a while, that's when I began to feel... guilt."

Sinbad couldn't help but chuckle. "I've never known you to feel such things."

Ja'far met him with a glare. "It wasn't my intention to put him through hell. I just want to know that he will be loyal to us."

"...I think the way you treat him now inspires more resentment than loyalty."

"That is why I'm still thinking about this," Ja'far spat, and then his features softened to a sigh. "It's not like I want to see him get hurt. I just don't want him to hurt you."

Sinbad scoffed. "Judal doesn't even have his wand. What's the worst he could do?"

"That isn't quite what I meant by 'hurt'," said Ja'far, "but... did Al-Thamen really control him with those bracelets?"

"I wouldn't put it past them," Sinbad sighed, reaching up a hand to massage his temples. "They needed a loyal magi. If they hadn't taken the precaution, Judal would've come to his senses sooner or later. He was already close, I think. That's why he's so different now."

"...I see."

After a moment, Sinbad said, "I think you should give him a chance."

"We did give him a chance, when Serendine was his King-"

"He was a child," said Sinbad. "He was manipulated. That wasn't a chance."

There was another period of silence, and then Ja'far sighed. "When you say that I should give him a chance," he began slowly, "what exactly should that entail?"

"Don't threaten his life all the time?" tried Sinbad. "Or... do what you can to be kind to him. You are both too similar to treat each other this way."

Perhaps if Judal had been saved from an earlier age, he would've amounted to a creature that was hauntingly similar to Ja'far. Sinbad supposed that he liked the fire in Judal, the abrasive disposition he carried, but a part of Sinbad knew he should've worked harder to save him back then. Sinbad had been young too, and clouded with bitterness and resentment for Judal. Things were clearer now, though, and if Sinbad could've gone back in time, he would've done whatever it took to save him.

He'd come about ten years too late, but at the very least, Sinbad was trying now, and his desire for Judal amounted to far more than feelings of guilt.

"...I will try," Ja'far began again, "to embrace him. More than I have been already. But one wrong move, Sin-"

"I know."

Ja'far looked at him for a while, coal eyes deep and contemplative, and then he sighed and waved a hand. "I have to finish this. Go and waste time somewhere else now."

Sinbad smiled. "I will."

* * *

Judal was uncomfortable. No, perhaps traumatized was a better term.

Maybe if he had been better prepared for the sight, it wouldn't have hit him so hard. But to see Masrur and Sharrkan like that, pressed up against each other and the cold tile, breathless and heaving, Judal had never seen it coming. This certainly explained their behavior, sitting together at dinner, the long, lustful gazes across the room, the constant bickering; Judal just wished that he had figured out by way of his own intuition, rather than walking in like he did. Now, he could only hope that the pair somehow failed to notice who had interrupted their recent session, and that they wouldn't harass him if they didn't.

"Hey, Judal," came a familiar voice from across the hall, and Judal felt his stomach sink. "Can we talk to you for a second?"

At that point, it would've been easier just to ignore it, or perhaps run and hope to escape the inevitable interrogation, but that would create even greater unnecessary drama in Judal's life. He decided that it would just be easier to face his demons now, rather than face two new enemies for the duration of his stay. Judal certainly didn't need any more of those.

Judal's shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, and he turned to address the pair with as much graciousness as he could manage. He needed to make good impressions if he ever wanted to stay, he reminded himself, he needed to salvage whatever remained of his budding friendships with the generals, so Judal forced a tight-lipped smile. "What is it?"

"I was just wonderin'," Sharrkan went on, and Judal took the moment to really look at him; his pale hair was still damp against his tanned shoulders, and Judal followed the line of his collarbone to several bruises that darkened his skin. Judal, sure that he'd gone red, should've just run while he had the chance. "Was that you in the baths today?"

Judal, for whatever reason, said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" he asked again, and Judal was suddenly painfully aware of Masrur towering beside him. It wasn't as though Judal was afraid, certainly not, especially not of the big, idiotic brute that followed behind Sinbad like a hound. Still, though, Judal heard himself gulp."'Cause Mas could've sworn he smelled you in there. What does he smell like again, Mas? Jasmine, right?"

"And peaches," Masrur finished, and Judal silently cursed him.

Judal said, "must've been someone else."

"Then why's your hair still wet?" asked Sharrkan, extending a hand to feel Judal's soaked hair only for him to swat the hand away. "You've been dripping water all over the palace."

Judal brought a hand to his hair and grumbled to himself. In his haste to escape, he must've forgotten to dry it. "It rained."

"Judal," Masrur warned, and Judal threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Fine, fine! I was there. And I saw whatever the hell you two were doing, but if you kill me, Sinbad is gonna notice—"

"My god Ju, no one's gonna kill you!" Sharrkan exclaimed, wide-eyed. "We just wanted to talk!"

"Then why the hell is he looking at me like that?" asked Judal, referencing Masrur's hard, threatening gaze, to which Sharrkan only waved a hand.

"No, no, that's just how he looks," Sharrkan assured. "Hot, I know."

"Wow," said Judal, rolling his eyes, "I guess you two really are gay."

"Shush!" hissed Sharrkan as he lunged forward, clasping both hands on Judal's shoulders. "Don't be so loud with that!"

Masrur said, "I think you're scaring him, Sharrkan," in response to Judal's even paler face.

Judal shoved off with a huff. "I'm not scared," he insisted, though his recovering heart rate said otherwise. "And what's the big deal? You're dating. Or fucking. Or whatever the hell I just saw."

"Judal," began Sharrkan with a sigh, "you can't tell anyone about this."

"Why not?"

"He thinks we should hate each other," Masrur explained, to which Sharrkan whirled around to face him.

"No, we do hate each other!"

"That's not what you said la—"

"Go back to being quiet and brooding for a minute," Sharrkan huffed, turning back to Judal. "Anyway, we're supposed to hate each other."

"But… you don't."

"That's why you can't tell anyone!" he insisted, "we have a reputation to maintain. So don't tell anyone."

Judal's eyes narrowed, and his arms crossed over his chest. "What's in it for me?"

Without batting an eyelash, Sharrkan answered, "I'll tell everyone about your big gay crush on Sinbad."

Judal's confidence immediately slipped. "H-How do you know about that?"

There was a laugh, and Sharrkan shook his head. "You've been so obvious about it, what's there to guess? And besides, Mas told me. He has good instinct about stuff like that."

 _Mas_. It sounded silly, just to say out loud, but Judal supposed it was probably a mouthful to muster his full name in the midst of intercourse. He almost chuckled at the thought. "Well, if you two could figure it out, then I bet everyone else has too."

"Then I'll tell Sinbad."

"…fine, I won't tell anyone," Judal sighed, defeated. If he had it his way, Sinbad would either never know the truth about his feelings, or find out through Judal alone. No one was going to ruin that. "I don't need leverage on you two anyways."

Sharrkan beamed at him, white teeth flashing. "I knew we could count on ya, Ju!" Judal tried hard not to grimace at the name; he was most accustomed to giving casual nicknames himself, but having one was uncomfortable somehow. "I'll put in a good word with Sinbad for you."

"That… don't," Judal managed, and Sharrkan grinned.

"Aw, he's blushing! You really do like him, don't you?"

"Shut up!"

"He smells like Sinbad too," Masrur added, and Judal could feel himself bristling. "Like wine and the sea."

"We're done here," said Judal, turning on his heel. "Go make out in a corner somewhere, or whatever it is you do with a lover."

"You'd like to know, wouldn't ya?" Sharrkan sang, and Judal could almost hear the grin in his words. "With Sinba-"

With that, Judal had already prepared to escape, but once he ignored the man before him, he was really able to think. If Sharrkan and Masrur could be together in relative peace, here, then there was some sliver of hope for Judal and Sinbad, and at the thought, he couldn't hide a smile.

* * *

Perhaps there were better things Sinbad could be doing with his time, but in his mind's eye, crafting a new wand for Judal was rather high up on the list. The way things had happened the day before still worried him—though Judal insisted that he was just fine—so Sinbad had already begun research into what might prove more fruitful. Yamuraiha, with a knowing smile, had lent Sinbad several books regarding the subject, so for the first time in a long time, Sinbad actually devoted himself to reading them.

"Never took you for an avid reader," came a voice from the door, and Sinbad smiled when he saw the figure before him.

"I'm not."

Judal huffed as he approached, tossing dark hair back over his shoulder. Sinbad had closed the book by then, reluctant to spoil his plans, but it was a challenge to keep Judal's nose out of it. For a better look, or perhaps to torture him, Judal slid up onto Sinbad's desk, toned abdomen level with Sinbad's line of sight, strands of silken hair spilling onto the papers in an almost fluid motion.

It was these sorts of little gestures that reminded Sinbad how Judal had never quite changed, per se, rather he had always been this way, feline and provocative and sharp tongued, but the softness had always been there too, a genuine sweetness behind his haughty remarks. Judal had always been this way, in some way or another, and the idea was appealing somehow.

"Sinbad?"

"Sorry," he chuckled, coming out from his thoughts. "Did you say something?" It was probably one of the first times Judal had mentioned him by name instead of those silly nicknames—that he could remember, at least. Thinking on it now, the gesture was sweet.

"Why are you reading up on magic?" he asked, skimming through pages with a long-fingered hand. "Not thinking of taking it up, I hope."

"Don't worry, I'd have to be crazy to pull something like that," he teased, and Judal rolled his eyes.

"Why, then?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Sinbad assured. "Patience is a virtue."

Judal frowned. "I've never been very good at that."

Sinbad laughed, and tugged lightly on Judal's hair, just for the satisfaction of watching his frown turn to a pout. "Don't worry about it. You'll know soon."

Judal did not seem quite satisfied at the response, and opened his mouth to argue. "I—"

Before he could argue, a distant, inhuman screech could be heard in the distance, and Sinbad tried not to laugh as Judal jumped in alarm.

"What the hell was that?"

"Don't worry," Sinbad continued with a smile. "It's just the—"

"King Sinbad!" came a voice from the hall, a soldier, no doubt, who's confidence seemed to wilt at the image before him. "Is… this a bad time?"

It was no doubt an alarming image, to find the High King of Sindria with a scantily-clad man sprawled across his desk, but it was nothing that hadn't been seen before. Judal glanced over his shoulder at the guard, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yes."

"No," clarified Sinbad. "What is it?"

"The southern creature is attacking," the soldier finished.

Sinbad got up from his desk with a sigh. "I was wondering when one of those beasts would torment us again. The generals and I will see to it immediately," he confirmed. "You are dismissed."

The soldier seemed relieved once he left, and Judal turned back to face Sinbad. "What's the southern creature?"

"Ah, let me show you," said Sinbad, offering a hand to help Judal off of the desk. It was almost ironic—only weeks ago, he would've kicked Judal off the desk without a lick of remorse, but now, Sinbad felt something warm within him at Judal's slender fingers placed in the palm of his hand. "Come with me."

It was cute, the way Judal's cheeks went pink at just the words. "Fine."

* * *

Judal's initial reaction to the creature certainly hadn't been the best. He was sure that his nails had drawn blood when he clung to Sinbad's arm, but Sinbad had only brushed it off with a laugh.

"Don't be scared," he teased, "I'll protect you."

"I want to hit you," hissed Judal, but Sinbad only laughed, lighthearted and magnanimous, and somehow, Judal did feel safer.

"Really, though, it won't hurt you," he assured, and Judal's grasp eased just slightly. "The southern creature attacks a few times every year, and the generals always make sure to defeat it before it causes any real damage."

"Well…" Judal grumbled, "I guess I feel a bit better."

"Look, Masrur and Sharrkan are fighting it right now," said Sinbad, pointing up at the figures in the distance, and Judal's nose wrinkled. He didn't want to think about those two idiots again for the day, or any time soon.

"Why did you pick them?" he asked, "Yamuraiha would've done a better job."

"She fought it last time, and the people like a variety in the hunt," Sinbad explained. "Besides, Masrur and Sharrkan are dating now. I figured they'd work well together."

"How'd you know about that?"

Sinbad chuckled, and it suddenly became very awkward, watching the pair battle the monster, listening to their banter, the way they moved as one. It felt invasive, somehow. "I walked in on them once. They didn't see me, though."

"Me too," Judal admitted, then immediately regretted it. "Don't tell them I said that."

"Don't worry, I'm staying far out of that," said Sinbad, and Judal heaved a breath of relief. "You know," Sinbad continued, "we throw a festival whenever the southern creature attacks."

The way he said it, Judal felt something twinge within himself. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he replied. "It's Sindria's main tourist attraction, the festival. You shouldn't miss it."

Judal turned his features away. "I've been to your festivals once."

He missed the smile that formed on Sinbad's lips. "I remember," he said, "but that wasn't Maharajan."

Judal hummed softly in response. "I suppose I can't resist the dance of this kingdom," and then, defeated, "I'll be there."

"Good," Sinbad grinned, and whispered, "don't hide your face this time."

Judal grew immediately tense, and bowed his head with reddened cheeks. "Believe me," he grumbled, despite the faintest hint of a smile. "I won't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone takes a turn walking in on mas nd shar making out its a rite of passage in the sindrian court
> 
> sorry i can't shut up about them jkalskakdj this will go back to being sinju next chapter lmao


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, apologies that this is a little late! I've been trying to get everything out right on time, but... I was really tired this week lmao
> 
> I'm going to be out of town next weekend, so I probably won't be able to get a new chapter up? I might post a oneshot though. Maybe that Rapunzel AU. The next chapter is gonna be a long one though, so I hope that makes up for it
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated! ♡

Considering how badly his first and last festival had gone, Judal probably shouldn't have agreed to attend a second one. But when Sinbad was so hopeful, and caring, and genuine for once, all of Judal's protests died promptly on his lips.

The outfit laid out for him was rather... embarrassing, though not quite that. The servants told him that everyone wore this sort of thing to Mahrajan--at least, the dancers did--a skimpy little thing that covered only the essentials definitively, with loops and draperies of soft, filmy fabric that fell over the rest of him. Judal did not consider himself a modest person; far from it, in fact; but this was a bit... much (or lack thereof).

"Hey!" Judal hissed, "watch what the hell you're doing with that!"

"My apologies, Master Judal," the servant couldn't help but giggle, and her touch grew lighter as she combed through the length of his hair, and Judal settled into the divan with a huff of discontentment. Really, Judal didn't need quite so many servants to care for him--all women, one for his hair and another for his makeup, and two more for his hands and feet. It was a lot. But Sinbad had insisted that pampering would do good for Judal, who seemed stressed (that was putting it lightly) and that he should be made to look his finest, and so Judal conceded with a sigh and little attempts of protest.

"It's fine," Judal grumbled, though satisfied and near purring at the softer strokes. "Just be careful with it."

In a way, though, Judal had missed this. They'd cared for him in Al-Thamen too, he was always pampered and cared for and coddled to such a degree that he wouldn't quite know what to do were he on his own. The solitude of being here, the isolation from Al-Thamen's priests, had certainly helped him to learn. Even still, it was nice to be treated like royalty every once in a while.

Still, it puzzled him; it was bizarre how Sinbad could just say the word and order for Judal to be cared for and looked after, as though tribulations of years past had never meant anything, as though the things he'd done had never happened. Or, even if they had, Sinbad had forgiven him. Judal couldn't quite remember if anyone had ever said those words to him before, I forgive you, warm and soft and welcoming. His heart clenched, just thinking of it, just thinking of the way Sinbad's eyes would turn soft and his voice would grow gentle, as though speaking in hushed tones to a frightened animal, or rather, conscious of the way his voice might affect a newly fragile disposition.

Judal let out a long breath, let his eyes slip shut, long lashes dusting the pale blush of his cheeks. Perhaps it was alright to accept this kindness, he thought, humming softly into relaxation, enjoying the servants--his servants--working diligently to care for him; it was easiest to focus on those things rather than his thoughts. He focused on the soft swirling of the brushes tickling his hands and feet, the ornaments pinned carefully into his hair, the paint applied readily to the pale canvas of his face. Judal had always enjoyed this sort of care, when he was in Kou, and now was no different.

"You truly are vain, aren't you?"

Carmine eyes shot open, indignant, and Judal nearly lost an eye to the makeup brush dabbing his cheeks. "If you have a problem, freckles, then take it up with Sinbad," Judal huffed, waving his free hand. "This wasn't my doing."

Ja'far scoffed. "You're enjoying it far too much."

"Are you here just to piss me off?" asked Judal, eyes shut again once he'd relaxed again into the care. "Or do you have something of value to offer?"

"I wanted to... talk to you," Ja'far began, "civilly. But you seem a bit busy playing dress-up. Perhaps another time would be better."

"Now is fine," Judal spat, cheeks burning. "They're almost done, anyways."

True to his word, it was only another moment until the servants had finished their work, and Judal grumbled a soft "thank you" as they exited the room. Judal sighed as he stood, bare feet cold against the marble (he hoped that wouldn't ruin the paint) and looked on expectantly. "What is it?"

It took Ja'far a moment to scrutinize Judal, to gaze up and down over his pale figure, when he finally sighed. "You are very different from the way I remember."

Judal quirked a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I am trying to pay you a compliment."

"What," Judal scoffed, "by shitting on the person I was three weeks ago?"

Ja'far, after a second to process, took a very deep breath. "For all that is good in the world," he went on, "please, just, be quiet for one single minute."

"...fine," Judal grumbled eventually.

"As much as I despise you," Ja'far tried, and Judal looked on in confusion. "The things that I hated most about you were Al-Thamen's doing, not yours."

Judal's eyes narrowed, and then grew wider in sudden realization. "Hey, don't do that, it's--"

"Let me finish," said Ja'far, and true to his word, Judal quieted. "They were able to control you and manipulate you to do things you couldn't have prevented."

"I'm still me, you know," Judal tried. "I'm still the little brat of a magi that you hate. I'm still the little kid who used to piss you off way back then. That hasn't changed."

Ja'far said, "it is true that you're a brat, and that I don't like you." Judal shot him a look. "But perhaps it was... unfair of me, to blame you for things out of your control."

"Where's all of this coming from?" Judal asked, looking away. "Just days ago, you hated me. You hated everything about me."

"I hated," said Ja'far, "the things that you did. I hated the things that I did too, once."

Judal was silent for a moment, searching for some intonation in Ja'far's expression, his tone, anything, but he remained unchanging. Judal bit his lip. "You were a kid."

"You were too."

"Yeah, but you fixed it," said Judal. "And you're better now. But I'm nineteen and I can barely tell right from wrong, and it's embarrassing. I-I should've saved myself. I could feel it happening and I should've stopped it."

Ja'far sighed. "Don't cry, you're going to ruin all of your makeup."

"I'm not going to cry," spat Judal, eyes blazing, but he trembled in a way that it was obvious tears were close, and he managed a shaky breath. "Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"No," said Ja'far. "I am trying to give you a chance, but you are so irritating I almost wish I hadn't."

At that, Judal seemed to perk. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ja'far rolled his eyes, like he wished that he'd never brought it up. "I still don't trust you. But Sin does, and you may not be... completely antagonistic, so I'm giving you one chance."

"I thought I already had one chance."

"No," he clarified, "you didn't have any chances then. My goal was to eliminate you as quickly as possible."

"Some apology this is," grumbled Judal, who seemed anxious already. "I feel so at ease."

Ja'far said, "be quiet. I'm not going to give you some sappy apology, so don't delude yourself into thinking that we're the best of friends now. I am only doing this because Sin cares for you, and I want to see him happy. But if you make one wrong move, Judal, I won't be afraid to break his heart."

Judal swallowed. "You've made your point. I won't fuck it up."

"Good," said Ja'far, pausing for a moment to look at him. Judal felt naked under his assassin's gaze, vulnerable, as though he were being studied. It was incredibly uncomfortable. "As much as it pains me to admit, I can tell why Sin is so fond of you," he said. "You're pretty."

As he turned and left without another word, Judal could have choked.

 

* * *

 

Sinbad was not the sort of man who would stall and wait for any sort of gratification. There were always people to throw themselves at his feet, to lavish in his attention; he was a king, after all, and immediate gratification was always easy to obtain. He had always, internally, scoffed at those who would save themselves to wait for someone special, for only one. After all, how could a man as sought-after as Sinbad choose only one in a boundless pool of admirers?

Now, though, he sort of understood the appeal. How many women had he turned away in one night alone? Sinbad was almost impressed with himself, to deny himself so many, to resist the temptation that had always ruined him in years past. Sinbad didn’t think he had much left within him to save for anyone, but if that someone would be satisfied with whatever he had left to give, then that was more than enough.

Sharrkan asked, “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”  

“About who?”

“You know who,” Sharrkan teased. “Judal. I’m pretty observant with things like this, you know. And it’s not like you weren’t obvious. You’re always looking off with those far-off, love struck gazes. Like, come on.”

Sinbad chuckled, rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

The man beside him bristled. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“You dress so flashy already, it’s hard not to notice the added jewelry.” The comment made Sharrkan huff and hide an intricately styled amulet behind the neckline of his tunic. “Why do you think I had you fight that beast with Masrur?”

“I dunno,” he grumbled. “A bonding activity?”

There was a chortled laugh. “Sure, that’s it.”

Sharrkan sighed. “Alright, fine. Who told you?”

“No one had to,” Sinbad admitted. “You two don’t hide it very well. At the very least, you could carry on in less… public places.”

Sharrkan groaned aloud and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dammit, I knew that was a bad idea.”

“You know,” said Sinbad, laughter glistening in golden eyes. “You don’t have to hide your relationship all the time. No one will care.”

Sharrkan scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, right. There are already whispers around the palace, y’know. I hear the maids gossiping ‘bout us all the time, and it just pisses me off real bad. I don’t wanna have to go through that all the time. I wouldn’t do that to Mas.”

“Masrur is not the sort of man to care about such things,” Sinbad assured. “If anything, the secrecy must hurt him more.”

Sharrkan was silent for a moment, took a sip from his glass, and then, a mutter, “d’ya really think so?”

“I think you should at least talk to him about it.”

Sharrkan shrugged, but realization had clouded emerald eyes, and he sighed. “Since when were you the relationship expert?”

Sinbad laughed and clapped a hand on Sharrkan’s shoulders. “I have quite a few more notches on my belt than you do, Sharrkan.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sharrkan grumbled, folding tanned arms over his chest with a huff. “But what about a real relationship? I bet that’s why being with Ju scares you so much. You’ve never really loved someone, have you?”

Sinbad was silent, and, although it was hard to admit, he knew there was truth in the words. Before this instance, Sinbad had never quite known feelings like these, he had never really known what it meant to share a true romantic connection with another person, especially not one of the same gender. Certainly, it was more powerful a feeling than he ever could’ve imagined.

Sinbad sighed, defeated, but found himself unable to hide a smirk when he looked down at the man before him. “I thought it was against Heliohaptian culture to show the navel in public.”

Sharrkan instinctively turned, cheeks tinged red, and then he perked. “I think I see Mas,” he said, and he was gone in a flash. Ordinarily, Sinbad would’ve thought him to be lying in lieu of his easy escape, but sure enough, there was Masrur, emerging from one of the festival tents. 

Sinbad could’ve sworn he was hallucinating when he caught sight of Sharrkan leaning up to greet Masrur with a chaste kiss, but it seemed like his advice had really had an effect on the younger man. Though, the longer Sinbad thought about it, the heavier his heart became, as it seemed an eternity would have to pass before he could ever share such an intimate gesture with Judal.

 

* * *

 

"You look so pretty!"

"I," said Judal, flushed as he turned in the mirror, "look like an idiot."

"Nonsense," said Yamuraiha, helping to fix the fine ornaments adorning his hair. "You look beautiful. Sinbad will love it."

Judal took a deep breath and turned back to the mirror, studying himself, the way the sparse garments exposed his fair skin and drew attention to the curves of his figure. Even if he was attractive, in some semblance of the word, Sinbad couldn't want someone like this. Despite any beauty he may have held, Judal was a man, and no amount of long hair or pretty fabric could ever change that.

"Are you sure?" asked Judal, soft, voice restrained with heavy doubt. "I'm far from the sort of person he usually favors."

"You are not a very usual person," Yamuraiha assured, taking his hand, stained with swirls of deep henna. "I am sure that he will be impressed."

Judal let out a long sigh. "I really hope so," as he turned back to her. "What about you? You're coming too, right?"

"Of course I'll be there! I wouldn't miss a night like this," she said with a smile. "But I'm not really much of a dancer as much as I am a drinker. I'm almost as bad as Sinbad, sometimes."

"I don't think anyone is quite as bad as Sinbad," Judal scoffed, adjusting his attire with meticulous care. He had been nervous before, when he'd danced with Sinbad, of course, but it had been easier under a veil of anonymity, when Sinbad didn't know who he really was. Could they ever even share a moment like that again, now that Sinbad knew for sure it was him? Was Judal delusional to think that they could share anything more than contempt for one another?

Yamuraiha said, "I think you should relax," as her hands settled upon his shoulders. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I ruin everything and face banishment and the wrath of every general in the nation," said Judal, without missing a beat, and Yamuraiha shook her head with a sigh.

"Nothing that bad will come of this," she assured. "Didn't he invite you himself? Sinbad wouldn't lead you on like that. He isn't that sort of man."

But Sinbad had led on Kougyoku like that, he had manipulated her and broke her heart--Judal's closest ally and dearest friend. He couldn't get the image out of his head. The last thing Judal could withstand now was heartbreak, and he'd been rejected far too many times to endure it yet again.

"I know," said Judal softly. "I'm not usually into all of this worry type shit." Judal had never been one to obsess over paranoia, but this was different. This was something he couldn't defend against.

"Maybe you should tell him how you feel," said Yamuraiha gently. "You should be open with him. You'll never know how he feels if you don't tell him."

"Do you really think that will work?" asked Judal."

"Well," said Yamuraiha, turning away with an unusually flustered disposition. "I have been rejected by many men in my life. But that never stopped me from telling them how I felt, you know? And, at the very least, it was better than torturing myself with unrequited affections."

Judal said, sheepish, "I guess you're right." Though, that didn't make him feel much better. Even still, he thought with a sigh, this was the best that he could do, the best he could manage. Judal had grown a lot as a person, since he'd come here, and while he hadn't quite liked himself before, he could at least tolerate the idea now. Maybe Sinbad might think so too. "I... I'll try to tell him."

Yamuraiha smiled. "Go on, I'm sure he's waiting for you."

Somehow, the idea of Sinbad waiting up after Judal was too good to pass up.

 

* * *

 

The last few rays of sun had just dipped beneath the overhang of twilight, and the lanterns shone especially bright against the deep backdrop of sky. Sinbad had never imagined that he might be without at least a single partner on the night of Mahrajan.

 _"Like a faithful married man,"_ Hinahoho had teased earlier that night, to which Sinbad had shaken his head with an equally amused scoff.

 _"I doubt that I'll ever be married,"_ he had assured in response. _"It's not exactly something I've planned for."_

 _"Not everything has to have a plan,"_ the man had answered, and Sinbad couldn't stop thinking about it since.

Then, a pale, painted hand was rested on his shoulder, and Sinbad was too tired to look up. "Sorry, ladies, I'm just not in the mood t--"

"Oh, just turn around, idiot."

At the familiarity of the voice, Sinbad did turn around, and every coherent thought within him was drowned by the sight. Judal had never looked quite so beautiful as he did now, bathed in moonlight, a glistening sheen off of his silken hair and ivory skin and golden ornamentation. His eyes roamed across the fair skin--across the pale attire and pink champagne draperies, the fall of the skirts over pale legs, the charming floral adornments in his hair. For a moment, Sinbad's memory was drawn back to that other night, what felt like centuries ago, when he'd first laid eyes on Judal--but that was different. He hadn't known that was Judal, but he knew now, the nuances of his character, the tenderness beneath his bite, everything. Knowing everything that he did about Judal made the sight all the more beautiful.

It was Judal who said, "you look different." Sinbad supposed that he did look different, in some ways. He had taken to wearing that tuscan orange robe of his, the one that tied loose over his head and bared his broad chest and the jewelry that stretched across it. Judal seemed to flush, looking at him for so long.

 _Cute_ , Sinbad thought.

"What kind of different?" Sinbad teased, and Judal's face scrunched up again and he grunted with discontentment.

"You know that I think you're attractive," Judal grumbled, soft, turning his face away. "Don't make me say any more."

"Well," said Sinbad, laughing as he took Judal's face into one hand, guiding his scarlet gaze back to meet him. "You look beautiful."

Judal's blush was bright beneath painted eyelids, but he didn't tug his face away, only stayed, yielding to the warm touch against his cheek. "Thank you," he managed after a moment. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting so long. The servants must've gotten carried away."

"I can hardly blame them," Sinbad teased. As pretty as Judal was, he wouldn't have been able to resist either. "They did a good job."

Judal managed a small smile, flustered and unsure, and slender fingers (the henna was beautiful, swirling dark across his pale skin) came up to carefully hold Sinbad's, curling at his wrist, and the nervous smile grew. "Maybe I could make it up to you with a dance?" he asked, mirth glowing in those stunning carmine eyes, and Sinbad grinned back.

"I'd like that."

When Judal's face brightened and he took his hand, led him out into the open, Sinbad had to seriously reevaluate his thoughts on marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love projecting my indian heritage onto judal also the next chapter is gonna be really gay so i hope that makes up for this shitty filler/transition lmao


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so gay.. holy shit
> 
> extra long chapter bc i feel bad about missing last week's update lmao... so here it is! im kinda nervous about this one but please enjoy !!
> 
> all feedback is appreciated! ♡

Judal had been so quiet lately. Understandably, of course, considering the nightmares he'd endured in the recent past, and as much as Sinbad liked to see this unusually placated version of Judal--all soft edges and gentle smiles--there was something rather sad about the solemn way with which he carried himself.

But when Judal danced, it was as though the fire in him had never left. Scarlet eyes were aglow with laughter, brighter than freshly spilt blood, and the passion in each frenzied step seemed to set his whole figure aflame. Sinbad had found Judal's attire lovely before, charming, and he supposed that it still was, but as fabric danced in the wind around him, slipping subtly off of milky skin and sweat-glistening shoulders, the allure was nearly impossible to resist.

And to think, this was the same person who had shyly offered to dance just moments ago, eyes cast down and cheeks darkened with blush. The vibrant character before him was like a different person entirely.

"Come on, Lord Idiot!" Judal laughed, and the smile brightening his features easily reached his eyes. "Didn't you say you'd dance with me? Would you feel less shy if I wore a mask again?"

Sinbad almost paused to assure him otherwise, but Judal was still giggling, and Sinbad realized with a smile of his own that Judal was only teasing. He never thought he would admit to missing Judal's taunts, but these were less threatening than they were playful.

"Sorry," said Sinbad, smiling evenly as he grasped Judal's unblemished hand, pausing only for a moment to admire the swirls of henna that wound up his forearms. He couldn't help but wonder whether this was another way to hide the scars--which were fading almost entirely now--or just an attempt to fit in with Sindrian ways. Judal must not have understood the significance of henna for a bride. "It's hard not to stop to admire you," he said, and Judal's blush was back as he tugged Sinbad closer.

"You must be feeling sick," Judal teased. "You never speak so kindly to me."

"I'm making up for lost time," Sinbad said with a grin, and he silently buried his desire to tell Judal all the things about him there were to admire, to be kind towards, because after knowing the magi so intimately, there were many more than he ever could've imagined. Instead, he settled for, "you never told me you could dance."

"You never asked," said Judal, eyes sparkling with mischief, and he broke away from Sinbad's hold for another display, and Sinbad watched, entranced at the prowess in every step, awed at the skill Judal must've hidden away for so long to know just how to perform in such a manner. Judal really was beautiful like this, tantalizing skin exposed by the dips in sheer fabric, mane of dark hair flaring behind him with every spin. He had always been beautiful, of course, but with his smile so bright, Sinbad found that he was more captivating than any exotic dancer in the world.

The dance brought Judal back to him, and in a rare moment of confidence the magi took Sinbad by both hands and drew him out further, releasing a hand for a spinning flurry of motion, and Sinbad suddenly remembered how to breathe. He was not usually so distracted in the heat of a dance--the pace was picking up and he reminded himself to stay in time with it--but he could focus only on Judal. Judal, and the soft jingling of the bells strapped to his ankles, and the delicate garments swirling around his milky limbs, and the flow of his hair, and his bright, glowing smile. Judal was not particularly good with honest words, it seemed, but he was good with his body, at rolling his flared hips along with the beat, at matching Sinbad's quick pace. If this was how Judal wanted to share the way he felt, then so be it. Sinbad would have to have been crazy not to listen.

Sinbad watched the way that Judal came free of his bindings, the way that rigidity left his shoulders and narrow frame, and Sinbad couldn't help but feel himself loosen in turn. He had forgotten how easy it was to laugh around Judal, to lose himself like this; he'd forgotten just the kind of person he could become around the magi. Sinbad knew--rather, he was beginning to understand--just how much this meant to Judal, to be here with him, with no veils and no secrets between them, and Sinbad would do this a thousand times over if that was what it took to see Judal's smile.

The beat had quickened, the drum of the tabla quick and energized and their movements with it, Judal's ankle bells clinking at each frenzied step. Judal was light and energetic, but Sinbad was powerful and stronger, the dominant half, and Judal was eager to respond to him. It was faster now, inflamed with passion, and with the song's final note Judal spun into his arms, chest heaving, and Sinbad held him tight against him. Quietly, Judal was laughing, and Sinbad found that he was, too.

"Are you alright?" asked Sinbad softly against him. "You're not going to run away from me again, are you?"

"No," said Judal, breathless. "I'm not going anywhere."

A brief moment passed, and Judal seemed to realize that people were staring, applauding, and he brought his face closer to Sinbad's chest, hiding flushed cheeks. "People are looking at us," he grumbled.

Sinbad said, "they're looking at you," and Judal's face suddenly felt hotter. He was calmer again, subdued. As nice as it was to see that frenzied, energetic version of Judal, his occasional softness was just as charming. Perhaps Sinbad just liked all of Judal's aspects.

"I don't want them to look," he complained, and Sinbad chuckled.

"Why don't we find somewhere more private?" He asked. "Would that be better?"

It took a second, but Judal managed an eventual nod, and Sinbad knew he could never deny him.

 

* * *

 

Judal was graceful, when he danced, but in doing anything else around Sinbad he felt unrealistically clumsy and awkward. He fumbled walking alongside the man, debating whether it was appropriate to take his hand--and was this even a date? It felt like that, though Sinbad was supposed to be disinterested in him to begin with, and it wasn't as though Judal had very much practice with this sort of thing. When he had to actually speak with Sinbad, in words rather than dance, he was out of his element, and Judal was sure that the fact was blatantly obvious.

He let out a heavy sigh, tugging the silk garment further down past his hips. It was foolish, to flaunt his figure when he was already so conscious of the way he looked, the way his ruined body peeked out from behind sheer fabric. The more he dwelled on the thought, the more he worried, the more he noticed his exposed neck, the more he felt the scarred tissue of his inner thighs rubbing against each other with each step. The more he thought about it, the more he prayed Sinbad hadn't noticed. As unrealistic as it seemed to hope for, Judal didn't ever want Sinbad to see that part of him.

Judal felt a shiver go up his spine at the sudden feeling of calloused fingers resting a fleeting touch to the bare skin of his lower back. Sinbad had touched him. It wasn't like he hadn't before, but Judal could count the number of times he'd initiated it on both hands, and none had been quite so intimate as this. It must've been obvious how Judal felt, with how he went stiff at just the gesture.

"Is this alright?" Sinbad asked, and Judal nodded quickly, eyes darting away.

"Yeah," Judal let out a breath he couldn't remember holding in, feeling heat rush to his cheeks. "This is nice."

Sinbad smiled and said, "good," voice warm, and his hand settled just so against Judal's back; a comforting gesture. It was reassuring, certainly, and Judal felt unusually safe, but something in him decided to panic at the atypical intimacy of the action.

"Is this a date?" Judal blurted out, and regretted it the moment he'd finished. There was a moment where Sinbad's eyes widened and Judal's chest clenched with apprehension as he babbled frantic attempted apologies, but Sinbad's laugh cut him off.

"Is that what you'd call it?" He asked, chuckling to himself. "I don't quite remember the last time I've been on one of those."

"Oh," said Judal, red-faced. It was a foolish thing to assume, knowing the nature of Sinbad's intimate relationships; one night stands, never anything more. How could Judal figure himself to be different? "Sorry."

Even through it, Sinbad's smile remained reassuring. "Don't be. This is new for me, too."

"I..." Judal began, but found he didn't have anything else to say, so his protests finished with a long sigh. And then, a smile. "Okay."

It wasn't awkward, when they settled into temporary silence, roaming together through the streets of the city, bright with lanterns and decor, even in the deep of night. Judal was slowly beginning to realize how much Sinbad had put into this city, into his nation, into shaping it into the kingdom it was today. It was an admirable effort, and it had paid off. Even around him, all the rukh was bright with delight and excitement, no trace of black permeating the sea of white. Judal had always known that Sinbad was a good King, he was a great King, but learning so closely the truth of his accomplishments made Judal grow unusually sentimental. He was just deciding to comment on it when Sinbad came first.

"You're a great dancer," he said, and Judal's heart was in his throat.

"What?" he croaked, and Sinbad couldn't help but laugh.

"You're great at dancing," he said again, as though Judal weren't still reeling from the first time. "You act as if you've never heard that before."

Judal said, "that's because I haven't."

"Really?" asked Sinbad, awed. "You're beautiful when you dance."

Judal, flustered, still carried on, despite how the word 'beautiful' struck him deep to the core. "I don't usually show people that sort of thing," he admitted, feeling rather sheepish in spite of himself. "S-So count yourself lucky, idiot King."

"I do," he said, gazing down at Judal for just a moment too long to call it chaste, and it was Judal who broke the connection with a huff.

"Well," he grumbled, "I wouldn't say that you're great, but... you are a good king," Judal muttered to himself. He didn't have to look to tell that Sinbad had brightened.

"Do you think so?"

Judal scoffed. "Why else would I have pursued you for all of those years?"

"I can think of a lot of reasons," Sinbad teased, and Judal had to physically restrain himself from hitting the man; not that he enjoyed such things, but anything to stop the taunting.

"Well, that is the only one," Judal insisted, nose turned up. "That is the only reason I'd ever want to be at your side."

"You're at my side now, aren't you?" asked Sinbad, and Judal responded with a frown and a prompt halt. Though, as much as he thought on the matter, he couldn't quite think of an appropriate argument, so Judal chose instead to cross his painted forearms over his chest and grumble to himself.

"I guess."

Something softened in Sinbad, gazing at Judal for so long, and Judal felt himself tense at the sight. When Sinbad looked at him with eyes like that, soft and warm and forgiving, and welcoming, and kind, Judal could barely remember how to speak, let alone protest. "If you'd like," Sinbad began as he came back to Judal, approaching slowly, softly, as though dealing with a frightened animal, and Judal made a face at the mental image, "I could give you a few more reasons to stay by my side."

Judal's pulse quickened, and it was clear that something in the air had changed in that moment, and Sinbad was closer, and Judal felt himself breathing heavy, and Sinbad's hand was on his lower back again and--

"King Sinbad!"

It was truly incredible how easily the fragile moment shattered, and all for the sake of some idiotic civilians--women--who, at this late hour, had only intended to wish their beloved king a good night and a happy Mahrajan. Of course, Sinbad was too good a man, and broke their momentary contact to greet his loyal subjects. But there were no touches shared with the women, and Sinbad's hand was still at Judal's hip as he spoke--to which Judal wasn't quite paying attention, if he were honest--and he wondered silently if they'd ever again share another tender moment such as this. This, all the while praying Sinbad's fingertips wouldn't brush against hardened scars across otherwise delicate skin.

Once they were finally gone, Judal wasn't looking at the man beside him, and Sinbad sighed, exasperated. "I'm sorry," he said, "this happens a lot."

There were a lot of things Judal could've said, bitter things, indignant things, but he grudgingly settled for, "that's alright." Sinbad was as much Judal's King as he was anyone else's--perhaps even less. Judal's heart clenched at the thought. "I guess," he grumbled, "if I ever intend to live here, I'll have to get used to it."

Sinbad, taken aback only for a moment, granted Judal an affectionate look, one that could've easily melted his heart. "I'm glad that you're considering my offer," he said, and Judal scoffed. How could he not consider it, the offer that he'd longed for his whole life?

Feeling something wash over him, Judal snorted and his gaze fell to his feet. "You said we could go somewhere private. I still feel watched."

Sinbad said, "I can't blame them for staring," and Judal reddened, "but I'm sure you'd teach them a lesson if that went on."

"I would," said Judal with a laugh, _if I had my wand back_. The words remained unspoken, but Judal was sure Sinbad had heard them.

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Sinbad did find someplace secluded for them; even if it were only in the privacy of the gardens. Judal had seen them in the light of day, but lit up at night was something else entirely. Little globes of light dangled from the trees in pretty, ornate lanterns, brightening the vivid arrangement of flowers scattered in and out of winding pathways. The paths were narrow, and it was intimate, to walk alongside Sinbad, close enough for their shoulders to brush against one another, almost enough to hold hands--but that was too much, even for Judal.

There was a single moment in which Judal, stupidly, paused at the sight of one startlingly vivid crimson lily, one that truly stood out from the rest. He'd just readied himself to move on when Sinbad--that idiot--reached out a careful hand to pluck the flower from its stem, and gently, like tending a garden, he extended a hand to place it behind Judal's ear, fingertips rough and catching easily on the softness of midnight hair. It was impossibly difficult for Judal not to lash out in sheer surprise, to run or yell or ruin the whole thing with some nervous insult, voice-cracking, but he didn't. Instead, the place where Sinbad had grazed against his cheek turned bright red, enough to match the pretty natural adornment.

"What was that for?" Judal asked, with an added murmur of, "stupid king", in spite of the butterflies swirling in his stomach.

Sinbad said, "you're beautiful," smiling, and the words stole the breath right from Judal's lips. It was then that Judal was certain he must've been dreaming, but the mist of late night tickling his skin and the soft chirping of crickets and the glow of the lanterns against Sinbad's tanned features were all far too real to have been imagined. Judal only wished, if this were a dream, that it wouldn't end any time soon.

"There's... something I want to ask," murmured Judal after a while, once they'd seated together on a narrow bench--carved beautifully from fine, dark mahogany.

"Anything," said Sinbad, leaning forward, expectant. Judal swallowed.

"Do you hold it against me," he asked, "that I'm not a woman?"

"What?"

"I--" Judal tried, reddened, "I don't know why I asked, I shouldn't have--"

"No," said Sinbad, understanding, "you can ask me anything. Go on."

Judal tried to start, once or twice, and when it didn't work, he took a deep breath. "I," he began, shoulders settling, "am not usually this way. This jealous, I mean. I just, when I saw you with those women, when I saw you that night, I..."

"Do you think I cannot love a man, Judal?"

Judal choked, "what?"

Sinbad chuckled again, in that familiar soft way, and shook his head. "I'll admit that I've never really considered it, until now. But now that I have, I am not so bothered. I don't have any need for limiting myself nor my tastes."

"I've only ever seen you with women," Judal murmured, in part to himself. "When I walked in on you, that time." It had been awful, seeing Sinbad like that, tangled up with someone else, someone beautiful. His chest clenched, just to think of it again. Judal was an idiot to try this again, even now, knowing silently that Sinbad might never truly want him, and silently, he could feel his heart breaking all over again.

Sinbad's features seemed to darken with shame, as though he'd been stung. "That was a mistake," he said, "I needed--no, I wanted a distraction, but I didn't love her. I don't think I've really loved any of them, yet. I think I could love a man just as easily as I could love a woman," he said, "though, love is not something I have much experience with."

Judal, still struggling to process the words, said, "I know," and then cursed. "No, wait, I meant that I don't, either! I didn't mean it like--oh, stop laughing at me, idiot!"

Sinbad, still laughing, calmed himself enough to answer. "You're very sweet, aren't you?"

"I," stammered Judal, "am not 'sweet'."

"You are, like this," Sinbad smiled, affectionate, and his hand was at Judal's face again, tender touch brushing back a lock of untamed silken hair, and his smile grew when Judal's fair cheeks grew impossibly redder. He was so flustered, had been all night, Judal was certain he might burst if this continued.

Grudgingly, but with something genuine behind it, Judal said, "you aren't so mean after all, Stupid Sinbad."

"Stupid Sinbad," the man echoed with a growing smile. "It's nice to know you remembered my name."

By then, Sinbad should've already known that his name had been etched into Judal's heart for far, far too long. "I could never forget a name like yours." It came out rather bitter, because that was just the sort of person Judal was, in his nature, but he meant it in a genuine sort of way. It was a good name, a strong name, and Judal knew the moment he'd first heard it years and years ago that it was something he would hold with him forever.

Sinbad seemed to understand that the words weighed heavier on Judal than he'd intended, so he gave another gentle, reassuring smile. Judal was silently thankful, when he didn't mention it.

"I had fun tonight," said Judal softly, thinking back to their dance, to the moments spent in the spotlight, and he was unable to hide a smile. So Sinbad wasn't ashamed of him, then. Sinbad wouldn't hide Judal in front of his people, but rather embrace him, and on a night where he must've been under much speculation by citizens far and wide. It was somehow comforting, to know that Sinbad wouldn't hide him, whatever tentative connection there was between them, and Judal's smile grew.

Sinbad said, "I did too," and Judal felt like he were going to burst with this new feeling brewing within him. "I hope you'll still be here for the next festival."

Judal laughed a little under his breath, through his flush, and turned his gaze down. "I think I would like that," he admitted, and when he glanced back up Sinbad was grinning broad, in a way that spoke more for affection than ill intent. Judal felt his heart grow warm.

Judal was going to say something else when Sinbad cut in. "There's something I want to give you," he said, and Judal tried (with little success) to quell his excitement.

"Really?" he asked, struggling for an even tone. "What is it?"

From his robe (Judal wasn't quite sure how it didn't spill out when they'd danced), Sinbad drew out something gold and glittering, and Judal's eyes went huge at the sight of it. "Is this--?"

"Yeah," Sinbad smiled, passing the shimmering golden necklace into Judal's waiting hands. Judal was the picture of childlike delight as he handled it, carefully, admiring the opalescent gemstone and the regal golden hue.

"You bought it," Judal exclaimed, clutching the thing like a treasure in his two hands. Judal had long despised the bare feeling of his throat and collarbone, and he'd near worshipped the thing when he'd seen it in the market. Of course, he'd never tell Sinbad that, but now here it was, in his hands, and he smiled broad. "How did you get it?"

"I have my ways." Sinbad was smiling, warmth pooling in his eyes, and Judal had almost forgotten just how handsome Sinbad truly was. He'd always been handsome, of course, but Judal found that his charm was greatest when his smile was warm, and his eyes were soft, and most of all, when those golden eyes were on him alone. Judal had loved nothing more.

"Put it on for me," said Judal, a demanding tone with a sweet face, and he passed the treasure back to Sinbad's hands as he turned his back. There was a soft chuckle at the action, but Sinbad easily complied. Carefully, he swept aside the curtain of Judal's long, dark hair, slid it up over one shoulder, and Judal felt a cold shiver run up his spine at the touch. Sinbad was gentle when he slipped the chain over Judal's head, taking care with the clasp at the back of his neck; somehow, he'd known that the easy access would be comforting, opposed to something permanent.

Once he'd finished, Judal tossed his hair back over his shoulders, strands comforting against the skin of his back, and Judal marveled at the sight of the necklace adorning his chest. The thing wasn't quite high or dense enough to cover the scars, but that was alright, and if Judal were truly honest, he was growing tired of hiding himself. Now, there was something beautiful to focus on and draw attention towards, rather than something ugly to conceal. It was perfect, and Judal's smile grew at the sight.

"Do you like it?" asked Sinbad, nudging him gently in the side. Judal instinctively perked.

"I love it!" he cried, and, without thinking, he threw his arms around Sinbad's neck, only for a moment, until he breathed in the scent of Sinbad's cologne and realized the severity of what he'd done. Just as he felt Sinbad's fingertips brush gently against his back, accepting his embrace, Judal jolted with apprehension, nervous and skittish, but Sinbad's hold was warm and firm around him, and Judal let out a long breath he couldn't quite remember holding in.

"Thank you," said Judal, barely a whisper, an utterance he'd hardly dared to speak. He didn't have to look to see Sinbad's smile.

"I was happy to do it," Sinbad assured. "I am always glad to see you smile."

With that, Judal lost some of his rigidity, suddenly fragile in Sinbad's arms. "What?" he asked softly, pulling away just so, enough to gaze up into Sinbad's eyes. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do," said Sinbad softly. He was impossibly close, Judal realized. He thought he'd never be in such a position with such a man, never in a million years. "I've never wanted to see you unhappy, that was never something I meant to do." An afterthought, he added, "you are most beautiful when you're smiling."

Judal said, "you keep saying that."

"What?"

"That," he looked away, "you think I'm beautiful. Do you mean it?"

"I wouldn't lie to you," said Sinbad. "Not about this."

"Then tell me the truth," Judal begged, carmine eyes pleading as they turned back to Sinbad. "I can't--I can't play these games anymore. The flirting, the touches, the looks; I can't take you taunting me like this anymore. It's too much."

"Judal, I've never meant to taunt you," Sinbad tried, concerned. "Is that what you think?"

"Just tell me what you want," he said softly, head bowed. "Just tell me," he whispered into Sinbad's robe, felt the hand firm and warm against his back.

Sinbad was silent, too silent, and Judal spoke up in a choked voice, scarlet eyes brimming with tears, cast away. He couldn't take rejection a second time, not again, never again. "Judal--"

"Wait," said Judal, heaving a deep breath. "I--" another breath, "I want to tell you something."

"Alright," said Sinbad, low and understanding, Judal was still in his arms.

Judal took another breath, glanced to the sky in silent prayer, and spoke. "I... I can't give you what your women can," he began, voice a tremble, a whisper. "There are certain things that I don't know if I'll ever be able to give you, and I don't--I don't want to put you in that position," he murmured. Sinbad said nothing, but held carefully onto Judal's arm, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand. "I don't want to make things awkward between us, but I have to to tell you how I care for you. I've cared for you so long, and living beside you has shown me even more of you to care for. I don't think you know just how much I care, and I'm not sure if I do either, but I just..." He was growing panicked now, flustered, but calmed himself with a sigh and a shake of the head. "Just... Please, don't play with my heart anymore. I'm not sure that I can take much more of this, so... Do you want me, Sinbad?"

There was a brief silence, and then the moment that followed went by in a blur. Sinbad was close, suddenly, and worn fingertips came to Judal's jawline, trained his face upwards, and Judal couldn't breathe, he couldn't feel his heart pounding, his thoughts racing. It was like a dream when Sinbad brought his face down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Judal's waiting lips. The gesture caught him in a gasp, tearful, and--no, his eyes weren't watery, his cheeks weren't flushed scarlet when Sinbad slipped a hand into his hair, when Sinbad leaned into him in a way that invited him, rather than controlled.

Sinbad was kissing him. Judal was starting to understand that these were Sinbad's lips, Sinbad's hands, Sinbad's body pressed up against his, and not the figment of a dream. It couldn't have been happening, it couldn't have been real, and yet Sinbad's kiss was here, an unmistakably tender one, dominant but warm, gentle, with the restraint of a gentleman but the loving passion of something much stronger, like a hero from a fairy tale. What struck Judal the most was that, even in his kisses, Sinbad was kind.

After a moment, Sinbad slowly pulled away, and Judal was left speechless and numb in his arms. Carefully, Judal dared to reach a hand up to his own lips, dragging the pads of fingertips gently over the soft, pink skin, as if to assess whether he were dreaming. Sinbad's features were soft, but there was laughter still in his eyes.

"...what?" was all that Judal could manage. Sinbad chuckled, mostly to himself, and shook his head.

"You're a great kisser," he teased, and Judal, knowing that he most certainly was not--having been too shocked to move an inch, batted Sinbad playfully in the shoulder.

"Shut up!" and then, lower, nervous as he looked away, "why did you kiss me?"

"Because," said Sinbad, confident as he smiled, but there was unsureness to him too, from the wobbling corners of his lips to the tenseness of his limbs around Judal's frame. Surely, this was something new for both of them. "I care about you too."

Judal, flustered, said nothing, and Sinbad spoke again. "Look at me, Judal," he said, and Judal's head turned but Sinbad still guided the motion with a light, gentle hand. "I never meant to play with your feelings or make you feel unappreciated in any way. I don't say it nearly enough, but you are very dear to me, Judal. I'd never want to hurt you."

"T-Then why--"

"I wanted to take things slowly with you," Sinbad explained, "but I should've been more forward with my feelings. I care deeply for you, for all of you, and I felt like you should know that."

Judal felt numb, still, unable to move, cold and trembling. Then, in a wavering voice, he whispered, "are you sure?"

Sinbad said, "yes," in a way that implied how deeply he meant it. Judal was unable to restrain a fragile smile, and, not to be outdone, leaned carefully forward to reciprocate Sinbad's gentle kiss.

 

* * *

 

Judal wasn't quite sure whether it was appropriate to hold Sinbad's hand, after one shared kiss. But as the festivities came to their eventual end and they began their walk back to the castle, Judal couldn't help but try, a tentative nudge to the side of Sinbad's palm, and when the fingers easily slipped into his own, Judal couldn't deny that it was a wonderful feeling.

All of this was spoiled, however, when something sharp found itself beneath Judal's foot, and there was a hiss as he stumbled forward. It was lucky that Sinbad had been there to catch him, or else Judal really would've made a fool of himself.

"Are you alright?" asked Sinbad, concerned, and Judal scoffed as he nudged himself away.

"I'm okay, don't worry," he insisted, waving a hand. "It doesn't hurt," said Judal, but when he tried to take another step, the pain shot up his leg all over again.

"Maybe you should've worn shoes," Sinbad teased, and Judal shot him a withering glare. "I'll carry you."

"I don't need you to carry me," Judal already felt himself growing flustered, just at the mention of the act. "I can walk fine by myself."

"This is the sort of thing you do for someone you care for," Sinbad explained, lopsided smirk still there on his lips. When Judal didn't budge, he said, "let me take care of you."

That was all it took. Judal conceded with a grumble, though one without any real bite, and clung to Sinbad when he was heaved up into his hold, arms around his neck as he dragged slender fingers through lavender hair. The experience was much more surreal and terrifying than it had been when he was intoxicated, and even more so after this development in their relationship. Whereas once, Sinbad's touches had been hostile, seen only in the heat of battle, they were tender now, strong hands treating him with care and grace. Judal, grumbling to himself, buried his face in Sinbad's chest, and from there felt the chuckle that shook his shoulders. They were in the quiet, but as they entered the palace, someone surely must have seen them.

"Wait here," said Sinbad, setting Judal down on the plush comforter once they'd found his bedroom. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going, stupid king?" yelled Judal, but there was no answer. He slumped down onto the bed with a long sigh, but then again, perhaps it was better for a moment alone to reflect on what they'd shared. Judal's heart was still racing, just thinking of it now. No one had ever treated him so gently, so kindly. Judal was the great magi of Kou, he was expected to be strong and withstanding and unbreakable, but he was still human, and he still had a fragile heart. When Sinbad kissed him, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Judal had never been kissed like that--or at all, really--he had never been cared for like this, treasured like this, respected like this. It was all he had ever wanted, and it was all here, with Sinbad.

"Don't be angry with me," said Sinbad when he entered again, ice and a towel in his hands, and Judal knew immediately that it would be for his irritated foot. Although he was a magician of ice, that did not mean he had to enjoy the feel of it on his delicate skin.

"Make it quick," said Judal. "The night is almost over, isn't it?"

"I guess it is," said Sinbad as he knelt by the bed, and in his hand he carefully took Judal's injured foot into his hand, pressing the ice firm against it. Judal hissed and seized up, but the warmth of Sinbad's hands soothed him into submission, and all protests soon relented. "Time passed so quickly, I hardly noticed."

"I know," Judal agreed, equally in awe. Time had passed so quickly in general for the two of them; it felt like just moments ago, they were at odds in Balbadd, swearing and cursing and brawling with one another, and yet now, here was Sinbad, icing Judal's injured foot, caring for him as though he were a doll, and Judal, pliant and behaved in his hands. Thinking on it now, Judal rather liked the change.

"It amazes me," said Sinbad, "how soft your feet are, considering you never bother with shoes."

Judal laughed, almost proud of himself at the comment. "Magic?" he teased, and it took Sinbad longer than it should have to realize he wasn't serious. Sinbad laughed too when he finally understood.

Sinbad said, "I'm sure," smile still rippling across defined features. "I would expect nothing less from you."

Judal smiled. "How sweet," he crooned, rolling his eyes. After another moment, Sinbad seemed satisfied with his work and warmed Judal's cold foot with the towel, listening to his appreciative hum in response.

"That was nice," said Judal. "Thank you."

When Sinbad did not leave after he finished and his expression grew solemn, Judal's whole chest tightened. "What's wrong?"

Without warning, Sinbad gently took Judal's foot in both hands and pressed his lips to the top of it. Judal's whole form went rigid with alarm, trembling, and were it not for Sinbad's firm grip, he might've kicked the man directly in the face.

"W-What the hell was that for?" Judal managed, blush deep.

Sinbad said, with total seriousness, "I would like to court you."

Judal felt as though an alarm were going off inside of him, his thoughts were blaring, he could barely think. "What?"

"I would like to court you," he said again, smiling now at Judal's surely ridiculous expression. "I care for you, and I'd like to get to know all of you while I have the chance."

"Sinbad..." Judal murmured, eyes wide, "is that really what you want? Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure about anything," said Sinbad. He placed Judal's foot back where it had been against the bed and stood, took both of Judal's hands and drew him out onto his feet. "I want to know all of you, more than anyone ever has. Tell me everything there is to know about you," he said, and Judal might've thought it an exaggeration, but Sinbad's golden eyes were sparkling with something hopeful and excited all the same, a look that warmed Judal to his icy core. "Allow me the chance to court you, Judal. I would be honored to have you."

"Oh god, idiot," rasped Judal, throat tightening. Sinbad must not have known what this meant to Judal, to be offered someone more than just a king, a life more than that of a simple magi. Sinbad should've known the answer long ago, but nonetheless, Judal rose up on his tiptoes (cursing his injured foot) and the kiss he pressed to Sinbad's cheek was soft and warm, innocent, and when he stepped back, Sinbad was grinning.

"I accept," said Judal with a shy smile, delicate, like glass, and Sinbad's grin only grew. "I would love nothing more."

Sinbad seemed excited, eager, but Judal put a meaningful hand on his chest before he could say another word. "We can do more tomorrow," he said, tone firm. "I am tired and I want to sleep, and I don't want to forget any of this when I wake up."

Sinbad nodded. "I understand," he smiled, and set a careful hand to Judal's shoulder, warm and reassuring. "Sleep well, Judal."

"Good night, Sinbad," said Judal, and he briefly caught the look of raw happiness crossing Sinbad's features before he went out the door, leaving Judal alone and feeling unusually empty in the vast room. Judal slumped back on the bed, hair splayed out as he threw himself down on it, and this long, drawn out sigh was a happy one.

After a while, when he'd removed his makeup and jewelry and silks to ready himself for bed, he filled a vase of water from the sink and, by the bed, Judal placed in it the scarlet lily from his hair. Judal didn't usually care for such trivial things, but with this newfound sentiment stirring within him, it would be an awful shame to watch something so pretty wither away.

When Judal finally made his way under the sheets and drifted off into sleep, the smile was etched permanently into his features.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably moving kinda fast but like? ive been writing this story for 6 months and im ready for them to date


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all holy shit im so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out? kms i had writer's block the first weekend and then the second weekend i was sick and im still sick but i did the best that i could asdfghjklnj im so sorry
> 
> anyway please enjoy the chapter! feedback is always appreciated! ♡

To be quite honest, Sinbad couldn't quite remember the last time he'd felt this way.

Of course, Sinbad was no stranger to beauty. All his life he'd been surrounded by it: beautiful people, beautiful places, beautiful things, and from them he had taken his pick. Certainly, Judal was very beautiful, but it wasn't like Sinbad should've noticed, not like he did with the others. After all, what did one beautiful magi matter, in the grand scheme of things?

With the way Sinbad was behaving, it must've mattered a lot, considering how his chest clenched tight at just the very thought of the magi—his magi, now. Too many years he had waited for the chance to make such an utterance, to call Judal his, and now, here was the opportunity. Judal, his, and his alone.

Sinbad's mind could not help but roam back to last night as he lay awake in bed, thinking of Judal. He could not help but marvel, still, at the thought of Judal's decorated feet (soft, he'd learned) gliding across the stones, like dancing on air before him. Judal moved with a pretty sort of grace, but it was provocative still, alluring, the way he rolled his hips and flashed the pale glory of his slender legs-they were just as lovely as he'd once surmised.

Everything about Judal was lovely. From the swirling midnight black of his hair, pink porcelain of his cheeks, spindly white limbs-delicate but shapely-and those lips, curled like flower petals when Sinbad kissed him. Judal was something magnificent, something otherworldly, and Sinbad could not believe that there truly was something between them, now.

"You're awake."

The voice from the door was soft, as though worried to startle him. Judal was standing in the doorway, brushing back stubborn long bangs from tired eyes, and Sinbad found something very subtle and attractive in the display. Judal was beautiful, especially in early hours of the morning, half-asleep with bare feet and bleary eyes and tousled hair, and Sinbad decided it was a side of Judal he'd like to view more often.

"I am."

"Isn't it a bit early for you to be up?"

"A little," said Sinbad. "I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither," Judal admitted. He came forward then, still tucking back the glossy fall of hair from before his eyes when he made his way into Sinbad's arms. "I feel like I'm dreaming."

"You're not," Sinbad assured, and leaned down to press a kiss to Judal's forehead, gentle, and he could feel the warmth growing beneath his lips.

"It's hardly been a day," said Judal, flushed, "and you've already kissed me more times than I can count."

Sinbad said, "I've waited far too long to kiss you, and I will not take that for granted."

Judal grumbled as he turned away. "Fine. In that case," he began, and leaned up to press a kiss to Sinbad's cheek, "I have waited even longer."

Judal's lips curled just slightly into a smile, just enough to betray the tender emotions budding within him, and Sinbad smiled back.

Before Sinbad could say anything else, there was a cough at the door, a throat cleared, and Judal tensed in a manner that was almost laughably obvious. Sinbad put his hand at Judal's lower back as he met Ja'far's gaze.

"What is it?"

"You two should come down now," said the man, eyes narrowed, but tired, accepting more than cross. "The generals are waiting."

Sinbad said, "we'll be there in a minute." Ja'far sighed, and after staring for just a moment too long, he turned to leave.

Judal was silent, for a while, standing there in Sinbad's arms. For a moment, Sinbad began to worry, but after a while Judal said, "what are we going to do?"

"About what?"

"About last night," began Judal, unsure, and Sinbad couldn't help but to crack a smile. "Did you really mean everything you said?"

"All of it," Sinbad assured. "I meant every word."

Judal spoke again, still soft, somehow nervous, as though afraid to shatter the delicate new developments between them. "Even that you would court me?"

"Especially that," said Sinbad with a grin, golden eyes sparkling in the low light. "I want that more than anything."

It was faint, but Sinbad found the smile on Judal's lips too, the glimmer in his carmine eyes, delicate, like glass. He looked reassured, suddenly, as though he were gaining a bit of comfort, and from that fact, Sinbad gained comfort too. "So, what are you going to tell them?" asked Judal after a while.

"…you mean the generals? About what?"

Judal's face burned. "About us, idiot. What are you going to say? Or do you want to keep it from them for a while? I-I don't care either way, as long as we're together-"

Sinbad silenced Judal's protests when he picked him straight up from the ground, hoisted the magi high enough in his arms for Judal's head to be above his, and he laughed at the way Judal yelped in surprise.

"What are you doing?" Judal gasped, but he was laughing too, now, and Sinbad grinned up at him. "You didn't even answer my question!"

"I'm going to tell them the truth," said Sinbad, "and everything will be fine."

Judal's laughter died with his protests, and Sinbad, satisfied, set him back down. Judal was still smiling. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Won't I cost you a few generals?"

"They will warm to you in time," assured Sinbad. "Like I have."

All Judal could manage was a wry smile. "I hope so."

"We should talk more about this later," said Sinbad, and again, watching the way Judal's cheeks burned, he lifted the magi's painted hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, watching with delight how Judal shied from the touch, how he could barely stand at the softness of it. Sinbad smiled. "For now, let's get you something to eat."

* * *

Breakfast had been rather uneventful-mostly because Judal had been too flustered to do much more than eat, and by the time the whole ordeal was over, he was immeasurably glad. But now, even the simplest things as treatment with Yamuraiha felt like an interrogation, like an interview, even if only by his own paranoia.

It was almost painfully obvious how Judal was trying to make an impression; not just for Sinbad, this time, but for his generals. Judal could easily fit the role of Sinbad's respected significant other, if he tried. The makeup was softer and the clothes were looser today, modest but showy still, low around the neck, and his hair had been tied back simply at his nape in order to display the shimmering golden necklace across his collarbones. Judal didn't think that he would ever take it off.

"So," began Yamuraiha, eyes sparkling with amusement. "How was last night? Tell me everything."

"There's nothing to tell," Judal lied, lowering his face. He could hear Yamuraiha's chuckle from where she stood over him, working her warm water into his most tender places.

"Are you kidding?" she asked. "Everyone saw the way you two looked at each other this morning, there's no mistaking that something's changed. And what about that necklace?"

Judal stared down into his lap. "Fine," he grumbled, mostly to himself. "Something did happen."

"I can't imagine what," she teased. "Don't hold me in suspense."

Judal said, "we kissed," and couldn't bring himself to say anything more.

Judal could barely look at her, but he could tell that it was a challenge for Yamuraiha not to react with too much excitement; it was a feat that she failed miserably. "Oh, did you really? You kissed? And on Mahrajan too, that's so romantic!"

"Keep your voice down!" Judal hissed, but his face was so red that it was hard to take him seriously. "We haven't told anyone yet!"

"No one will hear us in here," she assured him, though that didn't do much to make him feel better. "Tell me what happened! I want to know what it was like."

"Mind your own business," Judal huffed, but he could hardly stay true to the statement, with the way he was near bursting with something near happiness. "I don't know. He just… He leaned in, and he kissed me." The memories had the heat coming back to his face. "And I kissed him back."

"You know," Yamuraiha began with a knowing smile. "Sinbad doesn't kiss just anyone."

"What do you mean?"

"He never did that in the past, with the women, I mean," she explained. "He liked women for sex, and not much else. He didn't show his affection like that, not publicly, at least. If he kissed you, then you're certainly something different."

"Is that so?" Judal managed, with that faint sliver of a smile. "I never noticed."

"Not many people do," said Yamuraiha with a shrug, "I suppose it's one of the benefits of living so closely with him. You can really learn a thing or two."

Judal nodded slowly, eyes filling with an emotion separate from embarrassment, something sadder. "Has Sinbad ever been with any men before?"

She thought for a moment, and then said, "no. But don't get the wrong idea," she continued, watching the way that Judal seemed to wilt at her answer. "I don't think that should worry you. Just because he's never been with a man before doesn't mean you can't be the first."

"But what are the chances," he sighed, "that he'll ever love me that way?"

Yamuraiha's eyes softened at him, at the way he gnawed at his lip, nervous and uncomfortable, and she sighed. "He doesn't need to love you that way," she assured, "because Sinbad never loved them to begin with."

"How do you know?" he asked. "How can you be sure?"

"Sinbad never bought jewelry for those women," she began, "and he never kissed them out of the bedroom. He was kind then, but in his eyes there was only lust. When he looks at you, there's clearly something more."

"Something?" asked Judal, and the way that a sliver of hope crept into his voice was almost laughably obvious, but in a way, there was something charming about the gesture. "Something like what?"

There was that knowing smile again, and when Judal felt the water on his skin he knew that Yamuraiha had gone back to tending to his wounds. Somehow, he didn't feel the same heaviness in his heart when she did. "Perhaps you should ask him," she suggested. "I have no doubt that he will tell you what's in his heart, even if it isn't through his words."

"Do you think so?"

"I'm sure of it," she said, smiling still. "And besides, something really special must've happened between the two of you, I can feel it. I've never seen you this happy. Don't let it slip away."

Judal heaved another sigh, gnawing at his lip, but then there was another faint sliver of hope that stopped him in the act, and his lips curled into the faintest beginnings of a smile. "I won't."

* * *

It took a solid five seconds for Ja'far to enter the room, look at Sinbad, assess the situation, and decide, "you kissed him."

There was a part of Sinbad that nearly choked, but a greater part that had merely grown to accept the way Ja'far could so easily read him, so he settled for a sigh. "What are you talking about?"

"Judal," he clarified, features blank, more accepting than disgusted. Sinbad wasn't sure whether he should be relieved. "You kissed him."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I have seen him," said Ja'far, "and I have seen you."

"You see us all the time," said Sinbad. "I don't see the big deal."

"I can see the way that he is dressed, like a faithful consort, and the way he can hardly leave your side. I can see the way you look at him," said Ja'far. "You two are hardly discreet."

Sinbad felt a bit sheepish at the remark, and couldn't stifle a soft chuckle to himself. "That bad, huh?"

"It's painfully obvious," Ja'far grumbled. "You didn't have to give each other 'fuck me' eyes all morning."

"Those were not 'fuck me' eyes," insisted Sinbad, sounding scandalized. Ja'far rolled his eyes. "We haven't even gone there yet."

"But you do admit that you kissed him?"

"Well," began Sinbad with his sheepish grin. "It's not like I can deny it."

Ja'far sighed at that, rolling coal-colored eyes. "You are a mess."

"And you're taking this really well," Sinbad commented idly, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be on your way out to eliminate Judal as we speak."

The advisor only shrugged. "I've fought you for too long on this matter, nothing that I say will ever change your mind. I know that now, so all I can do is look out for you, and for Sindria."

Sinbad couldn't help but smirk. "It's good to know that I have your support."

"You don't," said Ja'far, freckled nose wrinkling with distaste. "I don't think I'll ever support this union," he managed finally. "But I have to admit, it does seem like the magi is... trying."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that," said Sinbad, eyes wide.

"Yes, well," Ja'far went on," a few months ago, I never would've imagined you professing love to our worst enemy, and yet here we are."

Even such a weighted comment could not sour Sinbad's pleasant mood, for all he could manage was a smile. "Thank you. For trying, I mean. To accept him."

"I'm not going to accept him, or anything like that," said Ja'far. "But I suppose, in time, I could learn to tolerate him."

Sinbad was still grinning. "That's good enough for me."

Ja'far was silent for a moment, watching in a state of slight awe the way Sinbad actually attended to his work, the way he seemed to glow, the way he seemed to be functioning like an actual competent individual for once. It was stupid to suggest, but could all of this be attributed to Judal? Judal, who was good for nothing but stirring up trouble and chaos and making a scene, could not possibly be having this impact on Sinbad. And yet, Ja'far blinked, and looked again, and the mirage had yet to fade.

"I cannot believe that idiot of a magi has had such an effect on you."

Sinbad turned to him with a raised brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," said Ja'far, "that I don't remember the last time you've been both happy and sober in the same breath."

Sinbad cracked a wry smile. "I don't need to drink to be happy, you know."

"You're right," Ja'far began, "not when you have Judal around to do it for you."

Sinbad supposed, in a way, that Ja'far was right. He had always been happy enough—it was hard not to be, when one had everything in the world—but now, thinking of Judal at his side, that life suddenly felt far more complete. Somehow, it felt whole. Sinbad couldn't bear to let that slip away, so he managed a smile, and said, "I know."

"Do you love him?" asked Ja'far suddenly, and Sinbad's brows shot up in alarm.

"We kissed once and we've hardly been courting a day," he managed in between coughs. "How should I know that?"

"You should be able to tell, by now," Ja'far shrugged. "You two have been brawling together for years; you must've been able to figure it out by now."

But that was a different Judal, then. That was the crass, bloodthirsty version of Judal, who craved human suffering and mass-destruction. But this, this Judal was softer, sweeter, one that Sinbad could speak to without fear for his life and reputation. This Judal was inherently good, somehow, but people didn't change overnight, so those coveted traits must have been with the old Judal, too. It was an interesting thought.

"I don't know," Sinbad admitted, feeling sheepish. "But I will someday, I think. Someday soon."

Ja'far managed a slow nod, studying Sinbad with narrowed eyes. It was nerve racking, certainly, but then he sighed and shook his head. "You had better make up your mind soon. Kou will be coming back for him before long, and I know you don't want that."

"Certainly not."

Ja'far said, "look," and sighed again; the regret was blatant in his pale, freckled features this time. "You need to make up your mind soon, because this nation does not need a brooding, heartbroken King ruling over it."

"Yeah, okay. I get it."

"So take him out tomorrow."

That was something that got Sinbad to really stop in his tracks, and his eyes went wide at the very thought. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, go out with him! I'm telling you to take tomorrow off, go and spend it with the magi. Just don't make me regret this, Sinbad."

Sinbad was grinning, though, golden eyes glimmering with all iridescent shades. "I'm starting to think that maybe you don't hate Judal so much after all."

Ja'far clicked his tongue as he finally turned to leave. "You're wrong," he insisted, but the warmth was already there, and they could both see it.

* * *

Judal never could've associated himself with shyness and modesty, but he must've embodied at least one of those traits, judging from the way Sinbad was looking at him. It was interesting, to think that an expression once filled with such bitter hatred could ever be reduced to something so warm and soft.

"I'm sorry we didn't see much of each other today, that's my fault," said Sinbad, watching intently as Judal came over to the bed. Sinbad was lying across it, sprawled out, and Judal, reluctant to intrude, took a seat on the edge. Sinbad promptly moved over. "I had a lot to make up from the days I skipped."

"That's okay," said Judal, like he truly meant it. "I don't mind. I was busy with Yamuraiha this morning, anyways."

Night had already fallen by then—the days had been going by so fast, lately—and while they hadn't seen much of each other that day, Judal couldn't seem to let Sinbad out of his mind. The man was a constant plague to his thoughts, and it was near maddening, and yet heartwarming at the same time. Judal, of course, hardly minded.

"Ah, good," said Sinbad. "How has that been going, by the way? Do you feel any better?"

Judal could feel himself growing rather tense as he laid out on the bed as well, in the wide, empty space that Sinbad had left for him. "It's getting better, I think. Yamuraiha says it's hard to predict. But I think there's been a lot of progress. You know, she told me the other day that they might fade completely some day."

"That's great," said Sinbad, smiling as he looked into Judal's scarlet eyes from where he lay beside him. "I'm truly happy for you."

"Thanks," said Judal, fighting a smile of his own.

"You know," said Sinbad, thinking further on it. "You don't have to change yourself for me. Scars don't change the way I feel for you."

"I know that," Judal assured. "I've known that for a long while now, I just…" he sighed and hugged onto the pillow, and, as he did, felt Sinbad's arm drape over his waist, a comforting gesture. "It's really not for you. It's just, I've been trying my whole life to let go of the past, and now every time I see myself, I think of them. I can't even look in the mirror anymore; I just want to be myself again."

After a moment, Sinbad said, "that's very noble," as he pulled Judal closer into him. Perhaps this was not what Judal had had in mind when It was proposed for him to lay with another, though, he supposed it didn't mean "lay" in that sense. Sinbad leaned forward to kiss Judal on the forehead, a gesture he seemed to have taken a habit to, and smiled. "I respect that."

"Thanks," said Judal, blushing. "It means a lot to me that you do."

"Of course," Sinbad assured, and Judal found his face growing hotter. He couldn't remember a time where he had 'cuddled' or done anything of the sort; perhaps once or twice with Kougyoku, when they were children? But this was different, this was intimate somehow, closer, and Judal was nearly burying his face into Sinbad's chest by the time he came closer.

"Is this alright?" asked Sinbad eventually, noticing the way Judal seemed to squirm.

"This is fine," said Judal quickly, and it was, he liked the warmth and the security, it was just… different. "It's just new for me, that's all."

"Good," said Sinbad.

For a moment Judal found himself marveling over the man, how he, with all of the things he had to care for, had the care to ask if Judal was alright, if he was okay with what was happening, to check up on him and make sure that it wasn't too much on him. Judal decided that it was one of the most romantic things a person could do. Judal subconsciously snuggled closer at the thought, and suddenly he felt far more secure than he ever had before as Sinbad's arm grew snug around him.

"So I was thinking," Sinbad began, voice a low whisper, since Judal was closer now. "Maybe you'd like to go out tomorrow?"

"Like a date?" asked Judal, who immediately regretted the question.

"Something like that," Sinbad chuckled. "Maybe we could go into town again? And there's some places that I'd like to show you, if you'd like."

Judal said, "that sounds nice. Won't Ja'far be angry with you, though? He's always like that about something."

"Actually," Sinbad began, in a tone that was equal parts amused as it was shocked, "it was his idea. He suggested that I take the day off to spend it with you."

"Seriously?" echoed Judal, near the point of choking. "Freckles?"

"I was surprised too," said Sinbad. "Maybe he's warming up to you."

"That would be nice," Judal admitted with a sigh. One of the few things that still caused him grief here in Sindria was his struggling acquaintanceship with Ja'far, who he was certain still hated him. But still, it was at least comforting to know that things were starting to change, if slowly. Finally, he nodded his approval. "Let's go out tomorrow. I would like that a lot."

"I'm glad," said Sinbad, and Judal leaned just subtly closer to press a kiss to his smiling lips. There was no awkwardness this time, but the spark was still there, brighter than ever, and Judal felt the warmth budding within him like nothing had before. It was certainly nerve-racking, to think about. This would be his first public outing with Sinbad, wherein he was more than just a guest, just a visitor. This time, he would be a partner, not only in the privacy of the palace but in the public eye. Judal could hardly imagine it.

"Tomorrow," Judal said again, softer, this time, and it was his last thought before he drifted to sleep in Sinbad's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt proofread this at all i cant wait to reread it tomorrow and scream


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have anything valuable to say this time they're just really in love and im crying so much also i didn't proofread but im doing my best
> 
> feedback is always appreciated!! <3

Sinbad decided that there was something very natural, about the feeling of waking up with Judal in his arms. While Judal was not a particularly small individual, he seemed that way, opposed to Sinbad's size; he was taller, certainly, but he was broad and muscled, and Judal, while toned in his own way, betrayed a different sort of prowess, lithe and willowy rather than brutish. It was unreasonably nice to find Judal curled up in his arms, dozing quietly with his face buried in Sinbad's chest, vulnerable, and utterly at peace. More than anything, it was cute.

When Judal began to stir, Sinbad brushed aside his dark bangs and leaned over to press a kiss to his temple. Judal's features twisted into a frown, brows drawn together, but then something came over him and his features softened again, and dark eyelashes fluttered as his eyes came open.

Judal stared for a moment, bright eyes casting a glance over Sinbad's features, and once he was sure that there was no threat, he settled comfortably into Sinbad's embrace.

"Good morning, idiot," he said softly, blood-colored eyes still set upon Sinbad's golden ones, with a voice like milk and honey that dissolved all its hostility.

"It's good to see that sleeping beauty is finally awake," Sinbad teased gently, with a smile that reached his eyes and made Judal darken with blush.

Judal said, "shut up," and pressed a kiss softly against Sinbad's lips, a gesture that made him do just that. Truly, Sinbad loved to see Judal this way, raw and tender in the early hours, before he could put up his many walls. Judal looked at Sinbad with adoration shining in his eyes, blind devotion, and it was a look of which Sinbad would never tire.

When Judal pulled away, Sinbad tugged him closer by the hand around his waist, and Judal, surprisingly, complied. He moved like clay in Sinbad's hands, something Sinbad had never seen Judal do with anyone else before, a notion that easily betrayed his harsh exterior. Sinbad had never imagined that Judal might allow him this, to know him like this, to touch him like this. He couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Do you trust me, Judal?" Sinbad asked, the same question he'd asked what felt like years ago, despite being days, and Judal raised his head, lips tightening with something like nervousness.

Judal, looking away, said, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

Sinbad smiled, letting his fingers comb carefully through Judal's abundant silk hair, which had come undone in the night. Despite the fact that they'd done nothing of the sexual nature, Judal seemed rather disheveled, if only in the most endearing way. It was a rare sight, one that Sinbad was glad he hadn't missed.

"And you," Judal began, lashes fluttering as he gazed down, gnawing anxiously at supple lips. "Do you trust me?"

"You wouldn't be here if I didn't," Sinbad assured, and it was Judal's turn to cast a shy smile up at him. "Believe me."

There was a pause, the barest hesitation, and then Judal said, "alright."

"Now," began Sinbad, though, it was hard to take anything very seriously when he held Judal in his arms, like this. "I've been given the day off of work. How would my magi like to spend it?"

Judal opened his mouth, and then closed it, and sighed. "I," he said, "am not your magi yet."

"What does it matter?" Sinbad asked. "You will be someday. Hopefully soon."

Judal looked as though he wanted to argue, or to say something else, but there was an unspoken truth to the words that stopped him. Either it was that, or the fingers drawn through his hair as they lay together that had him purring like a cat. "Believe what you'd like," grumbled Judal, but his tone was too playful for Sinbad to really take offense. After a moment, he added, "I think I'd like to eat first."

"And then?" asked Sinbad. He removed his fingers from Judal's mass of hair as he sat up, eyes warm. Judal seemed frustrated at the sudden loss of contact, small nose wrinkling in a way that was irresistibly cute, until he rolled to an upright position in turn.

"Show me more of this island. You said that you would," Judal added, with a tone annoyed, despite the sparkle in his eye. "Or did you forget what you promised?"

"I could never forget," Sinbad assured. In one smooth motion, he gently took Judal's hand into his own, in a grip equal parts firm and gentle. Just as Judal was beginning to seem perplexed, Sinbad brought the hand up to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss to the back of it, unable to contain a chuckle at the way Judal seized up and quickly averted his gaze. Never in a million years could Sinbad have taken Judal for shy.

"I'll show you everything," promised Sinbad, as Judal cast a shy glance at him from the corner of his eye. "Anything that you want."

"Idiot," was all that Judal could manage, but the smile was already budding upon his lips.

* * *

 When Sinbad and Judal had come down to the dining hall, it hardly took a moment for Sharrkan to take note of him and tug Judal aside—much to the latter's protest.

"What the hell are you doing?" Judal managed, as though he were offended at the interruption. Sinbad, that ass, had only responded with a fond smile as he went to speak with the others; Judal was almost cross with him, but couldn't really find it within himself.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Sharrkan asked with a knowing grin. "Looks like you and Sinbad are havin' a lot of fun."

"Mind your own business," Judal huffed. "What I do with Sinbad is none of your concern."

"Well, if you didn't make it so obvious! I can already hear the wedding bells!"

"Keep your voice down!" Judal hissed, color rising to his cheeks. "We had an agreement!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Sharrkan waved a hand. "Say, what even happened between you two at Mahrajan? It's all the maids are talking about."

The comment made Judal instinctively tense. First it was letting Yamuraiha in on this, then Sharrkan, and now even the staff was aware. It wasn't quite that Judal minded anyone knowing, but this had only just begun, and already he and Sinbad had become fodder for the maids' gossip. It was a lot. "That's just fucking fantastic," was all that he replied.

"Aw, come on, Ju! No one cares, you know. Tell me!"

Judal breathed a shaky sigh as he tugged a hand through his hair, tied back in a single braid that hung between his shoulder blades. "God, we just kissed. It's not that big of a deal."

"Oh man," said Sharrkan, grinning and shaking his head. Judal had been expecting more of a reaction. "I knew it. You two are so obvious."

"What do you mean?"

"Hell," Sharrkan chuckled, and turned Judal by the shoulder, "he's lookin' at you with those sappy eyes right now."

Sure enough, when Judal cast a glance over his shoulder, Sinbad was looking, in a way that seemed watchful and concerned, but with a look of unmatched adoration in his eyes, something tender. That look warmed something in Judal, and he was almost certain that his own features were softened equally as much when he smiled back.

"See?" said Sharrkan, ruining the moment. Judal sighed as he turned back. "Totally obvious. You may as well announce it to the whole kingdom."

"It's hardly been a day," Judal managed. Was it really so obvious? He found himself growing redder as he thought on it more, something that Sharrkan must've noticed, for it inspired another laugh.

"Don't worry, Ju," he began as he clapped a hand on Judal's shoulder with a laugh. "I, for one, think you'll make a great queen!"

"Oh, shut it!" Judal snarled, but he was hardly intimidating when his cheeks were so flushed. "You know damn well that I am not—!"

"Relax, relax, I was only teasing!" He assured. "I know it ain't like that, I'm just having some fun."

"While telling the world of my relationship might be fun for you, I'm certainly not enjoying it," Judal grumbled.

A puzzled frown came over Sharrkan's tanned features. "Why are you so intent on keeping this quiet, anyways? I don't think anyone would really mind."

"I could ask you the same thing," he muttered under his breath. When Sharrkan did not say anything else, Judal continued with a sigh.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It's just…there's so much on the line, and I hate being…watched. I don't like being scrutinized, it's hard to act normally when all the generals are watching me. I won't be able to act like myself when they're all judging whether I'm fit for their King."

Sharrkan shrugged, and said, "I don't think they'll care."

"Tell them about you and Masrur then," said Judal, and just the mention alone seemed to make Sharrkan grow tense. "If it's so easy for you."

"Ugh, fine," Sharrkan rolled his eyes, defeated. "I guess you're right."

"We'll tell them eventually," said Judal, "if it works out. But for now… I just want to see if it does."

"I guess that's fair," said Sharrkan after a while. "But keep me updated! I don't wanna get left out of the loop."

"Alright, whatever," Judal waved a hand. It was something that made him think, though; other than the Ren family, Judal had never had many friends to talk to and gossip with or to worry for him, none like this. Now, though, he had Sharrkan and Yamuraiha as people he could confide in, as friends, and it was truly bizarre how quickly things had changed. It hadn't been very long since he'd come to Sindria, perhaps two weeks, and suddenly Judal was reminded of Kougyoku's promise to return for him. Oddly enough, Judal wasn't quite sure whether he was ready to leave just yet.

"Judal!" came another voice, and when he turned Judal found that Yamuraiha was already sitting down and waiting for him, at the long, low table where the generals usually convened for meals with Sinbad. "Are you coming? I saved you some fruit," she called, and Judal hardly noticed himself smiling.

"Don't worry, I'm coming."

* * *

 It was one thing to revel in Sinbad's newfound affections in the privacy of their bedchamber, when no one was watching, and another entirely when, in the city streets, in front of all of his citizens, he had slipped Judal's hand into his own. Judal, while taken aback, would've been a fool to pull away.

"The people are going to talk, you know," said Judal, nervous. He didn't have to look to see the warmth that touched Sinbad's features.

"They will always talk," Sinbad assured, "no matter what I do. But that was all petty gossip, and this is something different. It matters not what they say."

Judal hummed softly in response, and his only answer was to squeeze Sinbad's palm just faintly tighter. The laugh from beside him was fond and effortless, and Judal was immeasurably touched by the sound of it.

The city streets were crowded, in the heat of the day, and there were numerous townspeople who delighted in the opportunity to greet their king. Sinbad, social and amicable by nature, took the time to greet them in return. When inquired, and sometimes even without, Sinbad would spare a moment to introduce Judal as well, not only as visiting magi, but as a "dear friend."

Somehow, that deepened their budding affections, for Judal at least. No longer was he a mere consort, an enemy turned lover, but a friend, someone whom Sinbad held dear. There were butterflies in his stomach, at each introduction, since Judal was hardly used to mingling in a civil sense, always quick to violence and, worse yet, bitchy commentary. But now he really was trying, he was making an effort to seem polite and sweet, like someone Sinbad could be proud to stand beside.

He must've been doing a fair job, for Judal could see Sinbad's smile broadening at each encounter, see the fondness swirling in his eyes. It never occurred to Judal that Sinbad might one day be proud of him, and yet here he was. Judal wished more than anything that the color dusting his cheeks were from the sun's rays, rather than his stupid fluttering heart.

"Ah," began Sinbad, tone light, "it seems as though the sun's effect went straight to your cheeks, hm?"

Judal was sure that he would die of embarrassment. "It seems that way," he managed, and Sinbad laughed.

Sinbad had always been kind to Judal, in his own way, even before everything, but now, there was something especially tender to him. He was considerate, watching the way that Judal might perk at a particular fruit stand (Sinbad, of course, was quick to bestow the best Kou imports of peaches upon Judal, since they grew only scarcely in Sindria) and noticed when things were becoming too much for him.

Judal was almost surprised at Sinbad's ready willingness to stop and check on him, to make sure that he was faring well. Even if he wasn't, Judal would've insisted that he was fine, because he could never pass up a day like this, exploring the streets with Sinbad. It still felt like a dream, and Judal didn't want to wake up.

Something like pride blossomed within Judal, whenever someone might stare, and Sinbad, hyper-aware, would put his hand to Judal's lower back in a gesture that was almost possessive, in a sense of the word. The attention itself was not what incited this prideful streak, but rather Sinbad's watchful eye to guard him, and the fact that he cared enough to do so. It was not quite possessive, really, but more protective than anything, and Judal leaned into Sinbad's touch, warm against the curve of his waist, and reveled in it.

The bazaar was not excessively large, Judal noted, and after a while he found that he could recognize certain things, little things. He was able to recall carvings in the walls as he passed buy them, certain merchants that had caught his eye. This was a skill that Judal took unreasonable pride in, the fact that he was less of a stranger here than he had been before, that he could adapt to live here. Already, Judal was doing a fair job of blending in, of speaking with the merchants and common people, and what else was there to learn? If he could do this much, he could live here some day, at Sinbad's side, couldn't he?

As they passed through the merchants' district, Judal caught a glimpse of something else familiar, a table of jewelry glinting in the afternoon light. He tugged Sinbad towards it for a closer look, but he'd hardly been there a moment when the merchant spoke first.

"How did you like the jewelry?"

Judal looked up, confused, and then the realization dawned on him. "You're the vendor from the other day," he said, more of a statement than a question.

The old man answered with only a smile. "The necklace suits you," he said. "When our High King saw it, he just had to have it for you."

Judal cast a glance towards Sinbad, lips curled upwards. "Did he, now?"

Sinbad said, "of course," and smiled. "Anything to make you happy."

Before Judal could even think of what to say, the merchant spoke again, sounding smug. "I knew that there was something between the two of you," he said, with a meaningful wink in Sinbad's direction. When it was Sinbad's turn to flush, Judal was unable to contain a laugh.

They kept walking through the streets, languid and slow, and Judal could not quite recall the last time he had been so content. In his life, at the moment, there was no conflict, no strife. Things never worked out quite so simply for Judal, so peacefully, it was almost too good to be true.

Judal leaned his frame against Sinbad's shoulder as they went through the streets together, as the day dragged on, and people were fewer, now. Night's veil was beginning to drape over the island, clouding the skies and the streets and washing out the impossibly vibrant colors. Sinbad's eyes, though, were just as effortlessly gold as they had always been.

"Should we go back?" asked Judal.

"Not quite yet," said Sinbad, in such a transparent manner that Judal didn't have to guess that something was kept hidden. "There's something I'd still like to do."

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you that," Sinbad laughed when Judal frowned, displeased. "It would ruin the surprise."

Judal said, "I don't like waiting."

"You won't have to wait long," Sinbad assured. "I promise."

He took Judal's hand, which had been holding onto him by the arm, and laced his fingers with it. Judal's hand seemed pale and slender in comparison, and at the shiver it sent through him, Judal found that he no longer had the energy to protest.

"This had better be good," said Judal, smiling softly to himself when Sinbad laughed.

"Don't worry," he assured. "I think that you'll like it."

The night dragged on as they continued their walk. Sinbad led Judal past the region of the merchant district, through winding paths down to the beach. Judal had expressed mild disappointment at Sinbad's surprise culminating in something so mundane, but Sinbad assured that they still had a ways left to go. Judal, however, was in his element for once, bare feet sinking in the sand, sheer cloths flaring against moonlit skin. Sinbad commented that he looked as if he'd lived here all his life, and Judal brushed it off in spite of how he silently swelled with pride.

It wasn't long before they reached a wall of leafy underbrush, which Sinbad parted for Judal to follow after him. The path behind it was well-lit with torches, as though Sinbad had sent ahead attendants to prepare it. While Judal could see just fine with its aid, he still followed carefully after Sinbad a ways down the path, a setting that changed so dramatically from the beach before it, until they had finally reached their destination.

"What is this?" asked Judal, casting a wide-eyed glance towards Sinbad, who smirked at the wonder in Judal's eyes.

"There are lots of natural springs around the island," Sinbad explained, "but this one is by far my favorite."

Judal could see why. They were standing in an enclave amongst the trees and foliage, lined by the same lit torches of the path, but they were hardly necessary. In the center of it all was a crystalline pool, glowing with bioluminescence, natural beneath a high rocky overhang with falls of water that trickled back into it from above. The forests in Kou had been beautiful, but Judal had never seen anything quite like this.

"I think you're the first person I've brought here," Sinbad admitted. "Well, aside from the people I sent to prepare it."

"It's beautiful," Judal said, with wonder in his voice. A part of him was tempted to step into the water, but he was not the best swimmer, and he'd have to take off his clothes for that, wouldn't he?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Sinbad said, "care for a swim?"

The question made Judal instinctively tense, and without realizing it, he was beginning to faintly tremble at just the thought. Thing had been going well with Sinbad, so far, but Judal wasn't ready for this, not now. Sinbad was already beginning to take off his robe, and Judal was briefly distracted by how the muscles of his back rippled with the motion, before his thoughts returned to panic once again.

"You go ahead," said Judal, looking away. "I think I'll just stay here."

That stopped Sinbad in the act, and he turned to Judal, incredulous. "What?" he started. "You can't just stay up here. Can you not swim?"

"That's part of it," Judal grumbled, and Sinbad immediately understood

"Hey," he began, "if you're not ready to show me yet, that's perfectly alright. But I promise you that there will be no judgment, no matter what."

Judal scoffed. "You could have just suggested swimwear before we came out here."

Sinbad chuckled at the dry remark, but his stance did not change. "I didn't want to ruin the surprise, but it was thoughtless of me, and I'm sorry. Do whatever is most comfortable for you, alright? I won't pressure you into anything."

Judal took a moment's pause to register the words, to understand that Sinbad was sincere, and then he managed a shaky sigh. "I… Okay, just… You go in first, and promise not to look yet."

Sinbad answered with a nod, and when he brought Judal closer he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I promise," he said. "Take your time."

Judal was unable to keep from watching when Sinbad undid the rest of his clothes. Perhaps it was hypocritical, but Sinbad seemed far more comfortable in his skin than Judal did, and truly, he had reason to be. Judal only watched his back as he stripped, but Sinbad's figure was statuesque, almost akin to the figure of a deity. Sinbad was only a king, of course, but from his naked figure alone it was not difficult to mistake him for a god.

Once he was in the water, true to his promise not to look, Judal managed a deep breath as he began to take off his clothes. The water was clear, but not quite clear enough to discern a person's every detail beneath it, so he wasn't so concerned about that. But it was undeniably intimate, for them to stand unclothed together in the water. Judal hadn't known such intimacy before; it wasn't something that he could've possibly imagined for himself.

After a moment spared to strip his hair from its braid, Judal waded into the cool, still water, trying desperately to ignore how clear it seemed against his skin. "Alright," said Judal finally. "You can look now."

Sinbad turned, and when he settled his gaze on Judal, his features shifted from a look of wonder to a wide grin. "You're so beautiful," was all that he said, and Judal could only look away.

"Well," he managed, "you aren't so bad yourself."

Judal gasped as Sinbad swept him up into his arms, water sloshing and churning around them. He could hardly breathe when his bare chest was pressed up against Sinbad, reveling silently in this new stage of intimacy, something he'd never known before. Sinbad kissed Judal on the lips, a slow, deep gesture to contrast his last one, and as the water stilled around them, Judal put his arms around Sinbad's neck.

"I really like it here," said Judal, when Sinbad pulled away.

"We can come back," said Sinbad, brushing back the wet strands of Judal's hair."Whenever you'd like."

"No, not that," said Judal, "but it is nice here, too."

"What do you mean, then?"

"Sindria," answered Judal, breathless. "I like it here in Sindria."

Sinbad's expression only brightened, and there was a new light to his golden eyes as he hoisted Judal up into his arms. Judal made a sound that was most definitely not a shriek as he was lifted up, and in the severity of the motion, Sinbad lost his footing and they both tumbled into the clear, blue water.

Judal came up from the water then, gasping for breath but laughing still. He was suddenly very glad that he had come into the water. "What was that for, idiot?"

"Stay, then," said Sinbad, with a smile that lit up his whole face. "Stay here as long as you'd like."

It was a lot to think about, certainly. There was the matter of Kougyoku and Kouen, and his loyalty to them and to Kou, and the strange newness of Sindria that made Judal excited and terrified in the same breath. There was the ruin of his body, scars that made him hate himself, both physical and mental that might never heal with time. But then there was Sinbad, warm and kind and loving and forgiving, who looked at him as if he were the only living, breathing person in this world. Or, at least, the only one who mattered.

Instead of that, though, Judal smiled and said, "maybe I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update might be late im a hot mess im so sorry


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for all the slow updates, March is a crazy hectic month for me and I've been juggling a lot of different things. I think my schedule will start to go back to normal in April, so thank you all for being so patient with me <3.
> 
> Also, I probably should've mentioned it earlier, but I consider this story split into two parts: the first ended at Mahrajan when they realized they were gay (wow!) so we're in the second part now. It's been pretty soft and slow so far but I think that more things will begin to happen soon, I just really love soft Sinjus... :')
> 
> All feedback is very much appreciated!! <3

Mornings spent out of the palace were undeniably pleasant, especially with Sinbad at his side. Judal found himself comfortable, fluttering awake curled up at figure beside him, both of them laid out in the sand by the water. Judal was meticulously clothed, it was one thing he'd consciously done the night before, part out of shame and part from an unfamiliar notion of shyness washing over him. Sunlight brought new light to the crystalline pool, shimmering fractures of light glowing all over the rocky overhang, and Judal found his thoughts wander back to memories of the night before.

Sinbad awoke only moments after, when Judal sat up and the warmth of his body was there no longer. Sinbad sat up too, after a while, and Judal leaned across to peck the corner of his lips. Sinbad grinned at him, and Judal contemplated a 'good morning,' but it seemed almost unnecessary, when the early sun's morning glow paled in comparison to the shade of Sinbad's eyes.

"I think we fell asleep," said Sinbad after a while, with a dumb, half-smile on his face, something silly and affectionate all the same. Judal couldn't help but scoff.

"Idiot," he laughed, shaking his head. Judal didn't have to look to know of Sinbad's smile.

The walk back to the palace was leisurely and slow, and Judal was perfectly content with that. They'd decided to take the long way back, along the beach rather than through the city as they'd done the night before. It was just the two of them, and no real need for either to be aware, but Sinbad still kept his hold on Judal with strength to his grip, something protective and loving all the same.

Judal never could've imagined that Sinbad might display any sort of possessiveness over him, but it was there, between the kisses and the hushed whispers, the occasional concerned glance when they went through the city. It was ridiculously satisfying, and Judal found himself equally unable to let go.

Perhaps it was mere coincidence, but it seemed far more intentional when they found Ja'far already there, waiting for them on the palace steps, arms crossed meaningfully over his chest.

"I give you an inch," he began, eyes narrowed, "and you always seem to take a mile."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Sinbad, incredulous.

"I generously offered you the day off, and you take not only the day, but the night, and half of the next day too!" Ja'far seemed very cross, but in a defeated sort of way, and Judal couldn't help but laugh.

Sinbad's laugh was nervous. "I suppose that the time got away from us," he admitted, sheepish, and Ja'far's glare hardened. "I'll start on all that paperwork right away, don't worry!"

Ja'far rolled his eyes. "Fine. No more wasting time for you, though, hurry up. And you," he continued, turning to Judal with narrowed eyes. "Stop encouraging him."

Sinbad laughed at that one, and tugged Judal closer to bid him farewell with a quick kiss to the temple. "I'll see you tonight, dear. Stay out of trouble until then," he teased, and Judal could only manage a weak nod.

"Okay," he said slowly, still trembling at the way the term of endearment had touched his pounding heart.

* * *

"My goodness, where have you been?"

"Gee, Yam," Judal grumbled, rolling his eyes with a sheepish huff. "I didn't think I looked that terrible."

"Ah, sorry," she said quickly, "I didn't mean it like that! You always look very nice, just a bit... more disheveled than usual."

"I feel so much better now," Judal muttered, and Yamuraiha responded with a loud sigh.

"Well goodness, Judal, if you and Sinbad were going to have sex on the beach, you could've at least washed the sand out of your hair."

"Yamuraiha!" Judal hissed, a gesture that lacked ferocity with the deep blush that rushed to his cheeks. "That isn't what happened at all! We haven't done anything like that yet!"

"Then what have you done so far?" she asked, teasing, with a sparkle in her eyes. "You two must've done something, if you were out all night together."

Judal, at the rush of the memory, turned away with a darkened blush. "We... went swimming," he admitted.

"Swimming?" she asked, "I don't recall you having any sort of swimwear."

"I don't," said Judal, with a meaningful look, and her exaggerated gasp seemed almost scandalized in its intensity.

"Only the second date, and you've already seen each other naked! My god, Judal!"

"Be quiet!" he yelled again, "or someone is going to hear you! He didn't even see me, anyways." At least, Judal certainly hoped that he hadn't been seen. He let out a deep sigh at the thought.

Yamuraiha was laughing softly at his response, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. Here, sit down and let me see what I can do about all of this sand in your hair."

Judal let out a long sigh, but he eventually took a seat on the divan and, surprising even himself, allowed her to brush through the length of his hair. It was the highest sign of Judal's trust, to allow someone to handle his hair, his greatest pride. He sighed, a shiver running up his spine as he went on. "It wasn't so bad, last night," he said. "I mean, things are moving a little fast, though."

"I suppose," she said. "But you two have known each other so long anyways, right?"

"Yeah," said Judal. "I don't know. I guess. But we hated each other then, so it isn't the same."

Yamuraiha hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Sinbad never hated you."

"What do you mean?" asked Judal, feeling his heartbeat quicken, just faintly so.

"He complained about you a lot," she said, "more than he did about the others. But when he talked about you, there was something different in his eyes, and he was never very cruel. He always spoke in a way that made it seem as though there was something there. I think he's always had some sort of fondness for you."

"Do you think so?" asked Judal, in part to himself.

"I do," she said, threading gentle fingers through his hair. "I think, if Sinbad didn't have a country to answer to, you would've been his magi a long time ago."

Judal, in spite of himself, felt the gentle smile that curved at his own lips. "I wish that I could've been."

"Still, though," Yamuraiha went on with a giggle, "it took a lot of courage, to swim with him in the nude."

Judal's smile dropped, and the flush was back as he tried, without success, to bury his face in the high arm of the divan. "It didn't sound so bad in the moment," he groaned."

"I'm not trying to scold you," she assured. "I just know the way that you are, with your body. I commend you on trying to overcome that."

"I'm still ashamed though," said Judal with a sigh. "I don't want him to ever see that part of me."

"It's up to you, dear," she said, and there was that word again, the word that Sinbad had whispered to him softly with a kiss, and Judal was right back to melting at the thought. "But I don't think he will ever care about something like that. Sinbad isn't so shallow."

Judal only hummed in response when he turned back to face her. "Are they getting any better, though?"

She sighed. "Better than I imagined. The treatment has been much more effective, lately. Perhaps it just takes a while to really take effect."

"Oh," murmured Judal, softly. "You must think I'm very vain."

"I don't think that you're vain," she assured, and suddenly the feeling of her fingers in his hair was more comforting than nerve-racking. "I think that you're healing the best way that you can, and no one blames you for that. You've overcome a lot, since you came here, and I couldn't possibly fault you in that."

Judal said, "I don't want to seem vapid. I don't want to look like I'm that obsessed with the way that I look, but... whenever I see myself, I think of it. And I think of what they did to me. And I-I know that I can't erase the past, but... I want to heal from it."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to feel like yourself again," said Yamuraiha. "Wounds heal and scars fade, and so will yours. Don't worry."

Judal grunted softly in agreement, legs drawn subconsciously up to his chest, a gesture he hadn't quite meant to begin with. He didn't say anything else when he looked away, eyes cast down, but quite honestly, he didn't have to.

"Alright," she said, smiling gently as she set the comb to the side. "Let's have a look at you, then."

* * *

"Things are moving quickly, between you," commented Ja'far, idly sifting through papers at Sinbad's side. Though typically, he was a diligent man, devoted to his work in every sense of the word, he seemed preoccupied now, with thoughts of other things. Sinbad almost felt guilty to cause his collected advisor such anguish, but, then again, the sight was a rather amusing one.

"You think so?" asked Sinbad, only half-pretending to actually manage the work at hand. "I don't know. We've known each other forever, it hardly feels like that."

"He was in diapers when you first met," noted Ja'far, rolling his eyes. "Although he is a villain, you should still be ashamed."

Sinbad could have choked. "You wound me," he complained. "Besides, Judal doesn't really mind, and neither do I. I don't really notice the age difference."

"Don't worry," said Ja'far, "everyone else does."

The wound to his pride was great, at the words, but Sinbad was not one to be so easily deterred. "Yeah, well," he began, "we are both happy, and that is the important part."

"Have you slept with him?" asked Ja'far, and, for a moment, Sinbad was certain that he'd lost his mind.

"Of course not!" he answered, perhaps too quickly, for although it was the truth it certainly seemed otherwise by the harshness of his outburst. "Not yet, of course!"

"Then what could you have been doing all night, away from the palace? This is going to start a scandal, if you aren't careful."

"We didn't even do anything," Sinbad insisted. "Nothing like that happened."

Ja'far only hummed in response, though it seemed more distressed than anything else. "You've usually gone that far, by now. The others never lasted this long."

"Judal isn't like that," said Sinbad. "It's different with him, it's not like it was with the others."

"Do you love him, then?" asked Ja'far, the same question that had caused Sinbad to tense before, and one that brought him great anxiety.

"I don't know," said Sinbad. "Maybe."

"We can't risk the well-being of this kingdom on a 'maybe'. Either you love him or you don't. Please hurry up and decide."

"It isn't that easy," Sinbad insisted, exasperated. "I need time. He is dear to me and I care deeply for him, but I don't know if I love him."

"If you don't decide soon, then Kouen will return and take him back," Ja'far went on, "and I doubt you'll see him any more after that."

The thought made Sinbad's stomach sink, and he managed a sigh. To lose Judal, after longing for him for so many years, would be devastating. It was said that one is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but this whole thing would've been so much easier had Sinbad never given Judal his heart.

"I forgot about that."

"You're doing that a lot lately," said Ja'far, more chiding than harsh. "Please make up your mind, so that this kingdom won't have to suffer through your useless pining any longer than it has to."

"I'll try that," said Sinbad, unable to hide a chuckle at the absurdity of it. Ja'far lacked the same amusement.

"You seem different," commented the assassin, eyes narrowed in something like suspicion. "When was the last time you had one of your episodes?"

"What do you mean?"

"The depravity," said Ja'far. "Ever since this whole thing started, since you've been thinking about him, I can't remember the last time you've slipped."

It was a fair observation. Ever since the destruction of the first Sindria, Sinbad had experienced those little moments where his black rukh would try to take root, when it would blotch his skin and muddle his thoughts. Usually, the white rukh were able to overcome those negative thoughts, but lately Sinbad hadn't even needed to quell them. They had simply stopped.

"I guess that you're right."

"Judal is a brat," assured Ja'far, "but he is doing some good for you. Even if you decide you don't want him here anymore, I would hope that influence stays with you."

Judal was doing some good for Sinbad, in more ways than one. And Sinbad would've added that, usually, but instead he decided to quit whilst he was ahead and resume the momentous task of sorting through his papers.

* * *

After a while of the healing, Yamuraiha had decided to send Judal up to the baths, as his hair was still drenched in sand and seawater and the brushing hardly helped with that.

"Why do you have such long hair, anyways?" Yamuraiha had asked offhandedly as he got dressed, unaware of the way Judal tensed at the question. "Not that there's anything wrong with that; I was only curious."

"I don't know," he lied. "I like it this way." But Judal had his reasons, aside from his personal vanity. His long hair was one of the only things Al-Thamen had never taken from him, for whatever reason that may have been, and in those difficult times back in Kou, that sense of pride had been one of the few things keeping him sane.

Yamuraiha, of course, dismissed him anyways, and Judal found himself bathing in Sinbad's quarters this time, rather than the royal baths from before (he wasn't quite ready to stumble upon Masrur and Sharrkan yet again). The time alone, while peaceful, did allow Judal a lot of time to think, and that was one of the things that he hated most.

The thing that stood out to him most prominently in these times alone, away from Sinbad (for the first time in a while, actually) was the sound of his rukh. Now, when Judal watched the little birds swirling and chirping around him, the sea had gone completely white, losing the once prominent streak of black hue. Occasionally, there may have been a flicker, a dark pepper into the mix, but that was what everyone had, wasn't it? Judal couldn't remember a time when he had been quite so content and so pleased with himself, with his life, and it was something of which he would never tire.

Although the happiness was near suffocating, there were still difficulties in his life. Judal still longed for his wand, to feel the magic in his fingertips again. It had been weeks since he'd known that sensation, the rukh flowing through him, since he could function as he normally did. Magic had become a crutch for Judal, he used it for everything—from battling to smaller things, such as walking ten feet or braiding his hair—and without its aid those things had become a challenge. Judal would beg Sinbad for a wand again, if that was what it took, if Sinbad trusted him, at least. He'd already tried before, to give it to Judal, so it couldn't be too difficult to try again.

What bothered Judal the most, though, was his own body. It was foolish to be ashamed, and that was perhaps the most troubling aspect. Judal had nearly declined to go into the water with Sinbad, the night before, simply out of worry for his body, which was hardly as damaged as he seemed to believe. But it still hurt, to see the marks of those who had hurt him, and at each glimpse Judal felt it in him again, breaking skin and drawing blood, and Judal wanted more than anything to forget. More than that, though, Judal didn't want to disappoint Sinbad, or miss opportunities only due to his shame. That was a foolish sort of self-torture, and Judal couldn't take that pain any longer.

Still, though, when the door to the bath creaked open Judal was quick to duck beneath the sides of the basin in some pathetic attempt to hide from whoever had made their entrance.

"Is that you in here, Judal?" asked Sinbad.

Judal, with a sigh of defeat, sat up to face him, so that only his head and shoulders could be seen. "What gave me away?"

"The rose oil," Sinbad teased. "No one else here uses such flowery cosmetics."

"Shut up, stupid king," Judal grumbled to himself. "Is there something you want?"

"Only happiness and comfort for my beautiful lover," said Sinbad, with such a sweet smile that Judal couldn't quite tell whether he was teasing. "Come into my chambers when you're done, alright?"

"Okay," said Judal.

When Judal looked into Sinbad's features, there was something like hesitation in his eyes, some sort of restraint, and Judal realized then that his nakedness was like a barrier between them. Sinbad could've come to him already had he not been so ashamed of himself, could've greeted him with a kiss, but as things remained, he couldn't do that. The thought weighed on Judal just as much.

Nevertheless, Sinbad smiled, understanding as he took his leave, and now Judal had even more to think about.

Judal came out from the bath not long after, draped in an embroidered silk robe. Sinbad, as promised, was waiting for him, and, strangely enough, appeared more pleased with himself than usual.

"What is it?" asked Judal, to which Sinbad only smiled.

"I have a gift for you," said Sinbad, smug, with a sliver of pride in his tone. Judal instinctively perked.

"What kind of gift?"

The box Sinbad then presented for Judal was long and thin, ornamented with jewels and gold trim. Judal stared at it for a moment, then said, "I don't think I'm ready for a marriage proposal yet."

"This isn't a marriage proposal," said Sinbad with a laugh. "Open it."

Judal pried the box open with careful fingers, and truly, its contents were breathtaking. In it was a wand, long and thin in design, carved from something delicate and white (porcelain, or perhaps ivory) with engravings of gold that traveled around the handle. The jewel at its striking end was not scarlet, as it had been before, but this time it was something delicate, a pale, shimmering blue that retained all sorts of opalescent shades in its hue. It was intricate, and beautiful, and Judal didn't know what to say.

"This is for me," said Judal, less a statement than a question, and Sinbad smiled.

"It's yours," he promised. "And this one won't hurt you, don't worry. We've tested it a lot, Yamuraiha and I. It should be a perfect fit."

Judal managed a nod, and handled the object with trembling fingers, studying its fine details with a careful eye. His face felt warm. "It's very pretty," he said after a while.

"It suits its user," said Sinbad.

Very briefly, Judal entertained the thought that Sinbad wouldn't find beauty in him if he'd seen the rest of his body, all of the scars and blemishes and ugly things, but he tried to remind himself , with little success, that it was a foolish thing to think. Sinbad wouldn't find him ugly, just for that. At least, Judal hoped that he wouldn't.

But the thought didn't last long, and Judal had turned his attention back to the wand, to the gift that Sinbad had given to him, and as beautifully crafted as it was, the thing must've taken a while to prepare. Judal understood now, why so many days had gone by since their last attempt, and now, it finally made sense.

Sinbad must've really cared for him, to go through such lengths for Judal's happiness. It was a foreign feeling. Kougyoku had cared for Judal, and Kouen too, but this was so much different. The look in Sinbad's features was like nothing Judal had ever seen from another person, something warm and soft and irresistibly kind, and Judal's chest tightened at the sight of it.

Sinbad must not have known what to do, when Judal wrapped his arms around his neck, for he hesitated just a moment before welcoming Judal into an equally warm embrace. It must've seemed odd, for Judal to show such fondness and affection, which were things he hadn't quite known before, much less shown to anyone, but Judal had decided that Sinbad was the only man who deserved to see this side of him; Sinbad, who had cared for him and protected him and treated him like no one else ever had before. Only Sinbad had earned the right to see it.

"Thank you," said Judal, after a moment spared to revel in the warmth of Sinbad's embrace. Sinbad didn't say anything, for a moment, but then he finally managed a response, and his hold on Judal's waist grew just faintly tighter.

"Anything for you."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW im so sorry for such late updates holy shit?? I've been such a mess lately I'm so sorry omg I've been kinda sad lately so motivation is hard to find
> 
> thank you all so much for reading this story ♡ im still so flattered that so many people read this ahhhh 
> 
> please try to leave a review if you can!! they always make me smile ♡

Somehow, it hadn't occurred to Judal that water and ice were one in the same. Ice had been cold and hard and fierce, and Judal, having been the same in his nature, found it easy to manipulate. Perhaps he was out of practice, or perhaps the heat of Sindria in the day was too much for the ice to keep its vigor, but it was the water that came most naturally to him now. Or perhaps he had just grown too soft to wield its power as he used to do.

Judal still loved magic. To feel the magoi rippling through his fingers, through his sparkling new wand (which was really very pretty, the longer he looked at it) was a sensation that had been long missed. Judal had felt powerless without his wand, without its cool weight in his hand, between his fingers. Finally, Judal wouldn't have to rely on anyone. Finally, he could be independent.

Now, though, it was water that brought him the greatest pleasure to wield. Still blue, just as ice had been, but soft and fluid rather than sharp. Judal just didn't have the same rage, nor the energy, that he used to, for ice. Water was calmer and peaceful, and Judal was surprised that he'd never really tried it before.

"What happened to your ice?" asked Sinbad, watching from the shore as Judal waded knee-deep in the crystal pool. Judal turned to him and found the smile that bent Sinbad's features, and he couldn't help but smile in return.

"Ice is a lot of work. Water is almost the same, right? They're both blue," Judal explained, rolling the ivory wand in his fingers, smoothing the gold etchings with his fingertips. "Besides," he went on with a smile. "In Sindria, ice has a real tendency to melt."

Sinbad had to laugh. "I couldn't agree more."

Judal hummed in agreement, and then, with a grin and a swirl of his wand, sent a splash of water in Sinbad's direction. The man hissed at the cold and flinched back, and Judal couldn't contain a laugh at the sight of it. Sinbad scowled, but there was no real intensity behind it: a lopsided, defeated expression betrayed only by the laughter in his eyes. "I thought that leaving ice behind would make you less of a frigid bitch."

"Very funny," said Judal, but the look in his eyes was equally as warm. He turned back to the land and trudged out from the water, apparently satisfied with the day spent in the company of his magic. Judal buried his wand in the folds of fabric that stretched across his shoulders as he came out, and it was only the bottoms of his pants and ends of his hair that were very wet at all. Judal sighed when he finally sat down, at Sinbad’s side, and when he glanced over, Sinbad was still wearing that stupid smile.

“What is it now?”

“You’re like a nymph in the water,” he said, eyes soft. “You look happy.”

Judal was silent for a moment, pensive, and then said, “I’d like to think that I am.”

Water was wonderful for many reasons, to Judal. While he found that he liked to bend it to his will, Judal had also been taught—by Yamuraiha of course—how to use it for healing. In the past Judal’s abilities had been used only for hurt, but now there was this strange softness to blue magic, something that repaired, rather than destroyed. Al-Thamen had never blessed Judal with such lessons, but here, destruction seemed far from imminent, in any fathomable way.

And that was all Judal wanted, wasn’t it? He had tricked himself into believing that his lust was for war and bloodshed, but Judal was coming to understand that his true nature was less like the ferocity of the ice, and more like the yielding water in turn.

“You are very lovely when you smile,” commented Sinbad idly, and it took Judal’s response of a frown for him to realize that he really had been smiling at the thought. “Not that you aren’t usually.”

“I’ve smiled lots of times,” said Judal, “especially at you.”

“Yes,” said Sinbad, “but those were smiles of cunning and spite. “These though,” he said, drawing a thumb across the edge of Judal’s curved lips, soft and pink and wonderfully unblemished, and smiled in turn. “Are sincere. They suit you.”

“Not as much as yours do you,” said Judal with a quirked lip, and it was Sinbad’s turn to find himself taken aback.

“I have always been sincere.”

“Have you?” asked Judal, “even when you told me that you hated me?”

For a moment, Sinbad was silent, and then he sighed and said, “I suppose not always, then.”

Judal smiled a little, garnet eyes crinkling in the warm gesture, and then he grew a little somber, and let out a soft sigh. “Sinbad?”

“Hm?”

“Did you ever hate me?”

Sinbad appeared taken aback for a moment, golden eyes grown just faintly wider, until he managed to regain his face. “Why would you think that?”

Softer, Judal said, “you were very cruel to me, once.”

“I hadn’t known you then,” said Sinbad, placing a hand—dusted with fine grains of sand—atop Judal’s cool, bare shoulder. “Or perhaps I didn’t want to. I thought only of what you did, and not of who you were. That is why I was cruel to you.”

“But did you hate me?” asked Judal again, impossibly softer, somehow, but then Sinbad gently kissed the top of his head and he’d regained his defiant blush once more.

“I may have thought so, once. But I don’t think I ever could’ve hated you,” he assured. Judal, for a moment, scanned his features for any trace of ill will, but upon finding none, laid flat against Sinbad’s chest, a gesture which forced him to fall back against the sand.

“What’s this about?” asked Sinbad, though he hardly seemed perturbed, gazing up into Judal’s scarlet eyes, fingers finding their way into the sea of his hair.

“Maybe you aren’t as much of an asshole as I always thought,” said Judal, looking away, and Sinbad’s lips curved into a smile.

“You, however, are exactly the brat that I had always imagined,” said Sinbad, and Judal, through his frown, couldn’t contain a laugh.

* * *

 

"This came for you, magi."

Ja'far tossed him the envelope, and Judal scrambled to get a firm hold on it. His lips tugged into a frown. "What is this?"

"I have no interest in reading your mail," the man sighed. "Though, I'm not sure why you've received any to begin with."

Judal spared a moment to glance down at the parcel, and the second he laid eyes on the red seal, stamped with the insignia of the Kou Empire, his heart stopped. He didn't bother to say anything else, only tore open the envelope with desperate fingers, and found his stomach clenched as he recognized the writing. Kouen's penmanship had always been precise and intricate, unlike Judal's scrawled gyōsho script, and to rest eyes on it again made Judal's stomach lurch.

_"My Dearest Judal,_

_I wish that I could've written you sooner. The empire has entered a dire state of turmoil since your exile, but I cannot divulge details for fear that this letter may pass into the wrong hands. By the time this reaches you in Sindria, it may already be over, but I could not bear to refrain from writing to my magi any longer._

_I pray that you are doing well in Sindria. There isn't a day that passes without Kougyoku and I thinking about you. She tells me often of how she misses your company; you are very dear to her, whether you know of it or not. Her worry for you is relentless, and I must say that I feel the same. I sincerely hope that Sinbad treats you well, and that he has taken care of you, and that he hasn't hurt you in any way. I will accept nothing but the best from him._

_My greatest regret is that I was unable to protect you. If I had known sooner of what they'd done to you, the rebellion would've begun years and years ago. For my ignorance, I am sorry._

_Trust that I will come back for you. No matter whether you'll return to Kou or remain in Sindria, I will be there for you. I would like, at the very least, to bid you goodbye in person._

_Until then, I wish you the best._  
_練 紅炎"_

Judal had gone rigid, and he didn't notice the way his fingers wound tight into the parchment, creasing the fine stationery with trembling hands. For a while, Judal had almost thought he would be alright, without hearing from them, but somewhere, the emotions all came rushing back, as if they'd never gone to begin with.

Judal missed Kou, in a very strange way. He had loathed it, and yet he missed it. He longed for it. He longed for Kougyoku and Kouha and Hakuryuu and _Kouen_ , and he was happy in Sindria, happier than he'd ever been, but now there was an ache that hadn't been there before. He didn't regret coming to Sindria, not at all. It was the best decision Judal had ever made. Now he had freedom, a palace of people who loved him (mostly), and Sinbad, who had shown Judal how to live again. And yet, he missed them.

"Are you alright?"

Somehow, Judal hadn't noticed Ja'far still standing there, watching as the tears spilled down fair cheeks, and Judal drew a hand across his face with a huff. "I'm fine. I think I'll go to bed early tonight."

Ja'far was silent as Judal fumbled to fold the letter and slip it back into the envelope, grasping at it with faded-hennaed fingers as though it were something precious. Judal went to shove past the vizier to return to his chamber, but the hand on his shoulder stopped him, and strangely, it wasn't hostile.

"Judal."

"What?"

Ja'far sighed, as if knowing he would regret the choice of his words, but spoke anyways. "He is too foolish to admit it himself, but Sin cares for you more than he has cared for anyone else in all the time I've known him. When the Empire comes for you, keep that in mind."

Ja'far pulled his hand back, as though the touch has never occurred, and Judal could only stare, managing eventually to dumbly nod. "Thanks," said Judal, cautiously, and for a moment, it almost seemed as though Ja'far had mustered a tight-lipped smile.

* * *

Nights had been peaceful, without the nightmares, and for that Judal was grateful. Perhaps word from the place he'd once called home was enough to bring those painful memories back, and his sleep was anything but dreamless.

Judal jolted awake in a fit of panting, chest heaving, drenched in sweat and choking on sobs. The bedroom felt unusually large then, and the bed unusually empty, and it had been weeks since Judal had felt so alone.

He didn't know what possessed him to do it, but Judal rose from the bed, lean figure bathed in the moonlight from the open window, fabric rustling as he drew the silk robe over his skin. Judal was gasping for breath even still as he slipped out of the room, as he slid into Sinbad's adjacent chamber, and there must've been tears in his eyes as he stood in the doorway.

Sinbad stirred at the sound of the door creaking open, sheets slipping off of his naked torso as he rolled to an upright position. He faced Judal, groggy-eyed at first, but then his eyes grew wide at the sight. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Judal.

"You're crying."

Judal raised long fingers up to his cheek, felt the wetness that slicked pale skin, and quickly pulled it away. "I guess."

"Come here," said Sinbad softly, peeling back the sheets from the empty side of the bed. "Don't worry, I'm not totally naked this time."

Judal managed a weak laugh. "Alright, he said as he padded over to the bed, and, in one fluid motion, let his silk robe slip to the floor as he moved in to nestle between the sheets. He was still far from Sinbad, too far for an embrace, but he was still close and warm and here, and Judal found his chest tightening.

"What's gotten you like this?" Sinbad asked, allowing his hand to find Judal's, toying gently with the long, slender fingers, and the jewelry that Judal was too tired to take off. "You haven't been this upset in so long."

"Sometimes it's easy to forget," said Judal softly, "but then it all comes rushing back, and it's like it was yesterday they did this to me."

"Did you have a bad dream?" Sinbad asked gently. "Is that what reminded you?"

Judal managed a shaky nod. "I-I guess."

Sinbad hummed in understanding, studying the distress upon Judal's features, the worry twisting his brow, and his eyes softened. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," said Judal. "It's too shameful."

"Never be ashamed. You have no reason to be."

"You would think that I am disgusting," Judal whispered. "That I'm filthy."

"I could never think that." Sinbad said it like a promise, with kind, understanding eyes, and Judal already felt his walls melting away.

"Sometimes," he began, "I felt more like a cheap whore than a great magi. I'm sure half the men of the palace knew my bed. It was always used as a threat, so I wouldn't turn against her, because she knew how much I hated it." He sighed, a long, slow breath, and felt Sinbad's grip on his hand but couldn't bear to look him in the eye.

"Judal..."

"It hurt so much," he whispered, curling in on himself. "They would yank on my hair and tear at my skin and force me apart and--and I have the scars to prove it. Every time I look at myself I remember, and I know I can't erase what happened to me but I wish I didn't have to look at it anymore."

Judal stiffened when Sinbad pulled him closer, into his arms, and held him close. "You are beautiful," he promised, "no matter what they may have done to you. You are so strong and brave, and you will heal from this. I promise that they won't hurt you ever again."

"I don't want to go back to Kou," whispered Judal into Sinbad's shoulder. "I received a letter from Kouen today, and I miss them all but I don't want to go back."

"You got a letter?" asked Sinbad, and Judal missed the way that he stiffened.

"I did, but I won't go back there. I don't want to go back there ever again. I," Judal began, feeling flush, "belong here, in Sindria. I belong with you." He leaned against the pillow to kiss the corner of Sinbad's lips, blushing when he pulled away.

"How sweet," Sinbad cooed, and Judal hardly had the energy to frown at him. "I will always take care of you, Judal. Don't doubt that."

"I know," said Judal, even though he didn't. Slender arms came forward to curve around Sinbad's neck. "Can I stay here for the night?"

Sinbad pressed a kiss to his temple. "You don't even have to ask."

Judal tried for a smile, something delicate, like glass, that easily cracked when another thought came to him. "Sinbad," he began softly, chest tightening.

"What is it, dear?" he asked, and the word alone made Judal shudder.

"Please," he began, voice low. "If... if you ever make love to me," he tried, slowly, "promise that you will be gentle."

Judal watched the way Sinbad seemed to melt at the words, and then he spoke. "Of course," said Sinbad, eyes softened, like honey. "Of course I will be gentle with you, my precious Judal. I could never hurt you. I promise."

Judal kissed him again, quick and messy, but Sinbad leaned forward, tasting the softness of Judal's rose petal lips, feeling, gently, through the beautiful long hair. Judal's soft murmurs of appreciation echoed through the chamber, and when they were both out of breath, lips tugged away, and Judal found himself breathless in Sinbad's arms.

For a moment, Judal's lips pursed, and he debated within himself to say any more, to tell Sinbad the way that he truly felt. But, in the end, he was too tired to bear the weight of such an emotion as love, and to bestow it upon Sinbad at this hour would be too cruel. Instead, he nestled into Sinbad's chest, burying his face in warm skin, and sighed. "Goodnight, my King."

Judal didn't have to look to tell that Sinbad was smiling. "Goodnight, dearest magi."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im alive

Even once Judal had dozed peacefully off, Sinbad had laid awake for what was probably too long, staring up into the ceiling with Judal curled up like a kitten on his chest, dozing peacefully into the night.  
  
_I received a letter from Kouen today_.  
  
It was foolish to think about but Sinbad couldn't get his mind off of those words. Ren Kouen had sent a letter. To _Judal_. Hadn't the prince and princess promised to be back in two weeks for their magi? Two weeks had more than passed. It had been nearly a month since Judal had been left in Sinbad’s care, so the prince and princess would be coming back for Judal sooner or later and Sinbad was just going to have to face that, and to do everything that he could to ensure Judal was still at his side when they left.  
  
Sinbad gazed into Judal’s peaceful features, eyes slid shut as he snoozed quietly, long hair soft and smooth as it spilled across Sinbad’s warm skin. Judal was very beautiful, not only by his exterior, but to his interior as well. The pale, moon-kissed skin and hair of endless midnight and sweet, delicate features were impressive and lovely, without a doubt. But Judal was soft at heart, too, he was pretty even from within. For years this side of him had been concealed, and while Sinbad always thought that Judal was very pretty that was tempered by the cruel and nasty disposition that laid within. But Judal was neither cruel nor nasty. He was soft and sweet and kind, even through everything that Al-Thamen had put him through. It was these delicate virtues that made him so lovely to Sinbad, that made Sinbad feel for him more than he’d ever felt for the pretty girls he’d known before.  
  
Sinbad admired Judal, for all of this.  
  
Apparently, Kouen did too.  
  
Perhaps he was overreacting. Kouen probably cared for Judal more as a magi than anything else, as an asset rather than a lover. Or perhaps even then, maybe he was only a friend. But Sinbad couldn't help worrying. Judal was so fair and pretty, both inside and out; anyone would want for him. Sinbad knew that he did, but what if Kouen did too?  
  
Sinbad had begun to realize that he could not imagine a life without Judal. It hadn't been long since they’d known each other like this but _God_ , Sinbad could barely remember what it was like to wake up with a hatred for the magi, to wake up without that worry for his well-being and instead with a sickness in his stomach. Judal had given Sinbad something so tender, something he hadn't known before, and while Sinbad had never really loved another nor did he know what it felt like, perhaps he could have loved Judal, one day. Lying with him like this under the veil of moonlight made it very easy to love Judal.  
  
The night dragged painfully on. Morning fell and the sun rose, and Sinbad did in turn, though he had little sleep in the night with his many worries of what was to come. He’d kissed the dark crown of Judal’s pretty head before he rose, knowing that it was easier to treasure every moment with his magi than to assure himself that there was no reason to worry for their time together.  
  
Ah. _His magi_. Sinbad would never tire of hearing it, and he would ensure that he could hear those pretty words for many moons to come.  
  
He was probably being over-dramatic. Everything would probably be fine, in the end. But the time Sinbad had spent with Judal was precious to Sinbad, it was not something he would trade for the world, and he couldn't lose him, not now, not ever.  
  
Judal said that he belonged with Sinbad. That was what he had said the other night, so there was no reason to worry. And yet, Sinbad did.  
  
“Judal said he received a letter from Kouen yesterday,” Sinbad began when he found Ja’far in the office. He was met with a long sigh.  
  
“Yeah,” said Ja’far. He didn't look up from the papers in his arms. “He did.”  
  
Sinbad made a sound as though he were a wounded animal. “And you didn't tell me?”  
  
“I figured that he would have told you himself,” Ja’far sighed as he finally looked up. “Was I right?”  
  
Sinbad sighed as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I guess,” he grumbled, “but it would've been nice to know before he dropped it on me.”  
  
Ja’far couldn't hide the faintest hint of a smirk. “You sound worried.”  
  
It must've been plain on his face, from how his brow creased and his lips worried into a frown. Sinbad was not a man who worried often (worrying meant wrinkles) but he was willing to spare a lifetime of worry over Judal. “Not really.”  
  
Ja’far sighed, but there was amusement sparkling in his coal black eyes. “I don't want to watch the Kingdom collapse because your boyfriend decided to go back home.”  
  
“He's not my—” Sinbad paused for a moment, because he realized, Judal was his boyfriend. It was a strange thing to think of and even stranger to hear it out loud. Judal. His _boyfriend_. It sounded strange just to think about it, strangely informal, but it wasn't a bad sort of strange. It was something Sinbad could get used to. “Oh,” said Sinbad. “I guess that he is.”  
  
“Do you think that he will leave?”  
  
Sinbad paused for a moment. Did he? Judal had said that he belonged with Sinbad, but that didn't mean that he didn't long for Kou. Saying and meaning were two entirely different things and Sinbad didn't think he would be able to bear it if Judal really meant that he wanted to go back home.  
  
“No,” said Sinbad. “I don’t think he will. But I can't know that for sure.”  
  
Ja’far cracked a smile. “Talk to him, then. He’ll tell you, in his own way.”  
  
Sinbad managed a smile, but the weight was still there in his heart, for that was the thing that worried him the most.

* * *

 

Judal found that he was spending a lot of time lounging upon Sinbad’s bed.

And it wasn’t particularly in an intimate way, either, not in the way that could be expected. Rather than a concubine or a bedwarmer Judal was only a companion in the lesser sense of the word, in the sense that lacked physical intimacy but craved it emotionally. The most Judal and Sinbad ever did together was lay in one another’s arms, and Judal didn’t mind that one bit.

Judal wasn’t sure what courtship entailed. Sinbad was such a busy man it was hard to steal him aside long enough for a date but Sinbad lavished more than enough time upon Judal, that was for sure. Whenever the day allowed a break, Sinbad would be there with Judal, there to share with him a platter of peaches or simply just a moment’s company. They ate dinner together too--but only the mildest of delicacies were served for Judal, of course. 

But the moments that meant the most were these, the ones spent sprawled across Sinbad’s bed with Sinbad’s hands running gently through his hair, touch fleeting against the small of his back. It was the moments like these of which Judal would never tire. 

Judal rolled on his back, catlike in nature as he laid his head against Sinbad’s hardened abdomen, long hair spilling like silk across the tanned skin. “What’s got you so worked up now?”

Sinbad didn’t seem to notice the tension tugging into his features until Judal spoke. His creased brow softened as his eyes met Judal’s, and the shadow of a smile crossed his lips as he put an arm by the magi’s waist and tugged him closer. “Nothing’s bothering me, beautiful. I’m perfectly happy right where I am.”

Judal’s worries were nearly placated when Sinbad dropped a kiss against the crown of Judal’s dark hair, gentle and loving as he did. But once the butterflies of happiness subsided in Judal’s stomach, he remembered what he had asked, and on Sinbad’s arm when he did not receive an answer to his question. “As much as I’m _flattered_ ,” said Judal, laughter sparkling in his eyes, “I know that you’re worrying. You can tell me if there’s something wrong. You know that you can trust me by now, don’t you?”

“Of course I know that,” said Sinbad. “I would be a fool not to.” Trust between them had come far more quickly than Judal had anticipated, maybe it was because they had known each other for so long, because Sinbad had watched Judal grow from an entitled child to a broken adult and knew that there was nothing truly nefarious in his nature. Judal liked the trust. He liked the closeness. He liked that he could tell when Sinbad was upset but he didn’t like when the details were withheld from him.

“Then you know you can tell me.” Judal spoke quietly, brought a hand (just slowly, just carefully) up to brush against the skin of Sinbad’s cheek, thumb glossing over the prominent cheekbones that made women swoon wherever he passed. Judal leaned up and kissed his cheek, could feel the warmth beneath his lips that prickled against his skin even as he sat back. “You can always tell me.”

Sinbad was silent, for a moment, and then he sighed. Judal felt the warm breath tickling his skin, felt the dip in Sinbad’s chest as he exhaled, didn't have to look to know the way that his golden eyes softened at him. “Kouen is coming back soon, isn't he?”

Ah. Judal felt the shadow of a smile ghost across his features but instead of allowing Sinbad to see, he turned his face and buried it in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of spices and the sea from his hair. “Yeah,” said Judal. “What, worried you can't take him? It’d be a good match, but I think you’d have him easy.”

Sinbad chuckled. “No,” he assured, “that would be much easier than this.”

With that, Judal pulled back far enough so that he could meet Sinbad’s gaze, so that he could see the raw tenderness in his features, could feel the weight behind the hand brushing through Judal’s long hair. “What is it, then?”

“When he comes back,” said Sinbad, slowly, “will you leave with him?”

Judal blew out through his nose, a scoff as he shook his head. “Leave with him? As in, go back to Kou?” He chuckled at the absurdity of it. “I always knew that you were stupid, but I thought you’d know me better than that by now.”

Sinbad managed a rueful smile. “So you won't leave, then?”

Of all the things that Judal had thought of Sinbad he had never once taken him for insecure, or needing of any reassurances. Sinbad was the sort of man who had heard his entire life of what a prize he was, of what a man he was. He always knew that he was handsome, that he was cool and suave and in control and Judal could not blame him for that. But when he held Judal close and asked him, softly, if he would ever leave, it was hard for Judal not to smile.

“Of course I won’t.” Judal put his arms around Sinbad’s neck and tugged himself closer. “God, you're such an idiot. You know how much I hated it there. You know how much I like you here, I could never go back.” Quietly, he added, “I don't want to go back.”

Sinbad’s smile grew, and all bitterness left it. “You don’t?”

Judal cracked a smile. “I could never leave. After all,” he went on, leaning his head against Sinbad’s, catlike as he did. “I’m your magi.”

“That’s right,” said Sinbad, grinning as he tugged Judal off balance and into his lap. Judal made a sound as he did, but it wasn't a hard tug and he landed safely and easily in Sinbad’s arms. “You're _mine_.”

Judal definitely liked the sound of that.

“Yeah, my stupid king,” said Judal with the shadow of a smile, carmine eyes glistening like starlight. “I’m all yours.”

It was a good feeling. Judal had always belonged to Al-Thamen but for the first time in his life he had known what it felt like to belong to oneself, the self governance and autonomy that he’d never had before. For the first time Judal had known what it was like to choose a lover, to give himself rather than to be taken. Judal was Sinbad’s but he was his own person and his love (love?) was his to give, and there was no one else he’d rather give it to.

Sinbad cupped the back of Judal’s head in his hand, and kissed him. Judal made a sound in the back of his throat as he dipped his head back, as he felt Sinbad playing fingers through his hair, coaxing him in for more. Sinbad had always been good at kissing. With Judal he was always gentle but there was a fire behind it even still, an unspoken passion that made Judal’s breath quicken and his heart race. His touch was always tender, always sweet, Judal felt it as he leaned in and Sinbad brought his other hand to the small of Judal’s back, exposed by his choli, and pressed flat against it. His hand was warm, heavy with warmth and want as he laid it against the gently sloping pane of Judal’s pale, delicate skin.

Judal couldn't help his gasps, the air that slipped past his lips. Judal had been fucked before but this wasn't fucking, nowhere close, he had never known passion like this, never this incredible heat. Sinbad’s lips broke away, only for a moment, just long enough that he could lean in again to pepper his kisses along Judal’s jawline. His lips skimmed over the curve of it, sharp and yet sculpted lovingly all the same, as though he were wrought from fine marble. Sinbad held him with care all the same, careful not to shatter him, and Judal held on, arms thrown around his neck, pulled close into his embrace, breathing in the very scent of him, and hoped, silently, that Sinbad would never let go.

They had never gone very far past chaste kisses before, so Judal couldn't help his hard gasp when he felt Sinbad nipping and sucking at the tender skin of his neck at the hollow behind his ear, brushing aside the fall of soft hair. Judal had never had such great attention lavished upon one tender place of him, didn't know what to say, what to do but lengthen the pale column of his neck, old scars faded, red and bruising only where Sinbad’s lips hovered above the skin. 

Between breaths, Judal managed, “Sinbad, I…”

Judal could feel Sinbad’s chuckle against his nape. “Do you like that, sweetheart?”

Ah. Sinbad’s kisses had been lovely, of course, but the way he said it so gently, so lovingly, _sweetheart_ made Judal’s heart swell all the more. Judal managed a fervent nod between breaths, arms wound over Sinbad’s shoulders and around his neck, fingertips digging into the skin. “I like,” said Judal, softer, “when you call me that, too.”

There was a pause, then, and Sinbad’s kisses slowed to an eventual halt. He tugged back far enough for Judal to see his knowing smile, the warmth in his eyes, raw and genuine. “Do you, now? _Sweetheart_?”

Judal felt his cheeks flare and he turned his face, long hair spilling forward to hide his delicate features from view. No one ever really called Judal with sweet names like that. Kougyoku called him _Judal-chan_ sometimes but she did that to Alibaba too, so Judal couldn’t count that (they could have their own lame pet names, anyways). But Judal liked the way that Sinbad said it. He liked the sweetness dripping from his words like honey, the tender manner in which he touched him. Judal liked that. “Yeah,” he said. “I did.”

Sinbad lifted a jeweled hand to brush the fall of hair back behind Judal’s ear, glinting with a fine pearl drop. “Good,” said Sinbad, dropping a kiss to the moon skin of Judal’s cheek. “I’ll be sure to call you that more often, then.”

Judal, despite the warmth in his face, managed a smile. “Good,” he murmured. He shifted himself against the sheets and laid back into Sinbad’s arms, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. Judal liked the kisses, liked the heat beneath Sinbad’s lips. But sometimes he just wanted to be held, and his wish was granted when Sinbad’s arms grew snug around his waist, bringing him close. “I’d like that.”

When he said it like that, Sinbad could never resist.

* * *

 

Judal didn’t visit Yamuraiha as often for healing, anymore. It wasn’t because they had drifted apart, or anything, they still spoke just as often if not more, but the healing just hadn’t been as necessary anymore. Though the process had been slow, there was a lot of natural lifting of the abrasive marks; the bruises had faded entirely, by then, and everything else from his most recent injuries, and all that remained was a faint shadow of his oldest and once painful marks.

But those, too, were beginning to fade. Judal thought that Yamuraiha had been playing him for a fool when she said that they’d never go away but she assured him that she had been genuine, and this was just a stroke of good fortune, or perhaps “good karma, because you’ve been behaving so well lately!” 

Judal didn’t believe in karma, not before, at least, not when everything had been so terrible, for what could a child have possibly done to deserve such a thing? But now, when he fell asleep in Sinbad’s arms every night, when he hadn’t a single thing to worry him, Judal decided that maybe karma had dealt a hand in his favour after all.

“You’re healing so well,” Yamuraiha mused, eyes big with awe as she studied the complexion of his thighs, leg dress hiked up to reveal the skin beneath, almost perfectly smooth. “Have you been doing the exercises I told you about?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Judal, waving a hand. He’d always had a terrible hand at life magic, but when combined with water magic he was a bit more adept. “I’ve been trying.”

“Well, you’ve been doing a very good job, then.”

“Hm.”

“You know what I think it is,” she began, knowing smile quirking at the corner of her lips. It was a look that made Judal wish he’d never brought it up. “You’ve been so happy with Sinbad that you stopped worrying about them, and that made them go away.”

Judal snorted, brushing a lock of hair back behind his ear. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

Her eyes went just faintly wider as he did. “This one is new, though.” Yamuraiha brushed a hand against the side of his neck, at the tender skin once hidden behind the shackles of his collar, and Judal tensed up when she did. “What happened?”

It took Judal a moment to remember, and then he blushed. “Nothing,” he grumbled. “Nothing happened.”

“Ah,” she said, smiling. “I see that what they say about Sinbad is true. He's an attentive lover.”

 _Lover_. They had done more kissing cuddling than anything close to making love, but to admit such a thing would make matters worse, so Judal forced a weak smile. “Yeah,” he managed. “I guess so.”

With a deft hand, she swept his long hair back over the bruise at his neck, a curtain to fall tactfully and discreetly over the mark in question. “Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

If Sinbad kept leaving his love bites all over Judal’s fair skin, then Judal didn't think their secret would be a secret for very much longer.

He was about to say something else when there was a knock at the chamber door, and Yamuraiha motioned for the messenger’s entrance. Judal regarded the low-ranking soldier with a look of disinterest. He was tired of politics, so why should he have stuck his nose into Sindria’s? If Sinbad asked him to, he might have then, but for now Judal was perfectly content to remain oblivious.

“General Yamuraiha,” the messenger began, faintly out of breath. “The High King has called for an audience.”

“An audience?” she asked, arching an elegant brow. “Why? Has something happened?”

“The,” he began, “the Emperor of Kou has just arrived. His ship broke land in Sindria only moments ago.”

Judal went numb.

His first thought was Gyokuen, but _no_ that couldn't be it, the messenger had said _Emperor_. Koutokou was long dead. Hakutoku was gone too, and Hakuyuu and Hakuren and Judal’s head was spinning and somehow, on trembling legs, Judal shot up to his feet.

“Who is the Emperor of Kou?” He stormed to Yamuraiha’s side, eyes blazing at the soldier, and perhaps he was making a scene but what did it matter if any of them were _here_?

“I’m not at liberty to—”

 _“Tell me!”_ Judal was shaking as he stood, his knees felt weak and his head felt light and he could barely breathe but he had to _know_. “I am King Consort of Sindria and you will tell me who the Emperor is _now!"_

Judal's pale hands were trembling and his eyes were just a little too bright, and Yamuraiha had to steady him to keep him upright. The numbness made it difficult to feel anything at all. 

“Tell him!” Yamuraiha demanded after a moment when nothing was said, and with a sigh, the messenger finally gave in.

“Ren Kouen,” he said, finally. “Emperor Ren Kouen of the Kou Empire.”

Judal felt faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me so so long I am so so sorry I have no excuses or apologies enough but school was just so rough and I was going through a lot for the first few weeks of summer hooooooo boy.. im so sorry everyone 
> 
> im gonna try to regulate my weekly updates again!! ill be in japan from the july 10-19 so don't expect me to update at all during that time frame lmao but!!!!!! other than that.. I am Back
> 
> (hopefully I'll be able to write some mermaid au too? even after I accidentally deleted all the comments AHH)
> 
> feedback is much appreciated!


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